FallOut
by Zaney HacknSlash
Summary: A month after Light's death, the remnants of the Kira task force pick up the pieces, but a vicious, new enemy has set his sights on the man who shot Kira. 10 yr anniversary rewrite of my epic DN fic. Matsuda centric.
1. Chapter 1

**Part One**

 ** _What doesn't kill you_**

 ** _Makes you wish you were dead_**

 ** _Got a hole in my soul growing deeper and deeper_**

 ** _And I can't take_**

 ** _One more moment of this silence_**

 ** _The loneliness is haunting me_**

 ** _And the weight of the world's getting harder to hold up._**

 ** _\- Bring Me the Horizon_**

 _Creaking of the giant fans infiltrates every particle of chilly air along with the scent of rain, and he hears the others breathing, heavy, strained, scared. As much as it has been in the past, it's no comfort to feel them standing over him._

 _I stare at him, too, trying to understand how little he looks, unable to see his horror-stricken eyes behind bangs of shaggy black, but I remember the fear that penetrated his heart, and how it felt to know everyone heard its sluggish beat, that they'd hear the exact moment it stopped._

 _The child stares down into the shallow puddle of freezing water he's dropped into, and a murky reflection of his face gapes back, too distorted to reveal the expression of shock and horror that must be there, but it looks invariably young—much too young—childish, naïve, and small._

 _No one is thinking of him, the naïve child huddled on the ground, shuddering with anguish and rage. No one cares what a coward he is or how much of his world was simply destroyed only moments ago. There's little consolation in that either. Every word Near and Light say feels distant, as if he's only half awake; he hears them, he understands, and at the same time, he doesn't quite hear them, and he really doesn't understand._

 _How could this happen? How could he have been so wrong?_

 _Because he is stupid, that child. Looking down on him, I can't stop thinking about how pathetic he looks, swimming in his adult suit, eyes glazed with the reverberating effects of having truth shatter against the beliefs and hopes inside him, clutching a giant pistol in a little, pale hand._

 _Light…why?_

 _Why put everyone through such pain? Why lie about it all for so long? Why keep pushing and forcing everyone to go through the horrors of this investigation? Why betray us all?_

 _I don't understand any better than the child with the gun._ _And everyone who died… Not just the criminals, but the good people too, and the innocent, the bystanders, the people whose only crime had been to get in Light's way… What about them?_

 _What about me?_

 _A shot rings out. In a blur of gold and blue, the pen flies into the air, twirling end over end. Crimson blood splatters. Each drop is like poison._ _Gun trembling in that tiny hand, hate and anger fills the normally gentle eyes I once knew so well, everything cheerful and optimistic suddenly overshadowed by an unfamiliar desire to kill._

 _Staring, shocked, at the child, Aizawa whispers his name._ _Tears pour down the soft face, and his chest heaves like he's going to suffocate._

 _"Matsuda, you idiot!" Light screams. "Who do you think you're shooting at? Don't screw with me!"_

 _Bitterly, the child's voice echoes through the warehouse. "What was it all for then? What about your dad? What the hell did he die for?"_

 _Light's answer seems far away, but he understands it in the same blank, not-really-comprehensive way he's understood everything else. Soichiro was a fool. He died for nothing. Light justifies it with the idea that he was trying to do something good. Soichiro died for that._ _"I know you understand, so kill the others!" he orders. "Shoot them!"_

 _He does understand. He understands that Light got Soichiro killed and barely cares—just another sheep to be disposed of in the name of his own glorious cause._ _Voice choked with emotions, the child grates out, "You led your own father to his death, and now he's gone—you call him a fool?"_

 _The next four shots bang out in a succession, the trigger so easy to pull, like flicking a switch off and on again. Light flops back on the ground, writhing. The child storms forward, drowning in his suit, each step heavy, and at the same time, almost impossible to grasp, as if he's possessed, holding the gun out, steady now, ready for the final shot. Furious, he cries, "I'll kill him. I'll kill him! He has to die!"_

 _Clutching_ _the gun in both hands, the child in the man's suit stands over Light and takes aim. That bullet aches to plow a hole through Light's skull. Panicked, red eyes roll and stare up at him, disbelieving and afraid, but I don't feel even a fleck of compassion in my heaving chest, and the trigger is so easy to pull._

Panting, I jerked upright in bed, and with the angry sting of tears, I still remembered the gunshots and the sight of his body flopping back on the concrete. Everything about that day still existed, vividly, inside my mind, from the creaking turn of the giant fan, to the pain in my heart, like somebody dug a trench through my chest. But the gunshot, that was what woke me up every night.

After a moment of clenching the cool sheets and staring across the room at the sliver of light spilling between my blinds and the wall, I finally took a shuddering breath and ran my fingers through my hair, and then stared down at my hands. Even though they looked clean, they felt greasy and dirty. I ventured a tentative look at the clock. Already four-thirty in the morning. I was supposed to be up for work in less than two hours, but after tossing and turning all night, trying to shut off my mind, I wasn't sure I'd gotten any sleep at all.

Finally, I climbed out of bed to stumble to the bathroom, cursing and tripping over the puddle of clothes I'd left on the floor earlier, feeling stupid and clumsy.

In the bathroom, I ran my hands under boiling water until they hurt, and even then I could almost see the crimson of Light's blood running down the drain, so I squeezed soap out into my palm and scrubbed, keeping my hands under the water until I thought they'd burn. When I pulled them out again, they were red and throbbing, but at least I knew they were clean.

With a sigh, I leaned against the counter. Heavy hair fell around my face, and I knew I needed a trim. The rest of me was like it had always been—a reasonably lean physique maintained by a mediocre workout routine, a typical height, but a cute face my mother had always insisted was perfect for modeling.

What I didn't recognize was my eyes. Normally maple brown, I felt now that they had turned gray as steel, and my brows never lifted very high from them, a constant reminder of the misery slowly taking over inside of me.

Part of me couldn't believe I was even capable of shooting Kira. Not just because it wasn't like me to be so angry or violent, but also because, after spending years on the task force, I'd come to accept that I'd always be a below average detective. Most of the time it had felt like maintaining a positive attitude and boosting morale had been my only contribution. Even then, the others had never seemed to appreciate it that much.

But Light…the gunshots…his blood… All of it swirled in my mind like dirty laundry in a broken washing machine until I didn't know if I could stand to have that dream even one more time, and yet that vivid memory haunted me to no end.

I'd tried everything from drinking too much to taking over-the-counter sleeping pills to try to make it stop, but every night, I felt Light's death slowly chipping me apart. Dark circles under my eyes and pasty-looking skin were beginning to make themselves a permanent part of my appearance, transforming an otherwise handsome face into just another thing ruined by Kira.

Feeling sick to my stomach, I found my way back to bed and lay down, exhausted and dreading sleep. Any time I closed my eyes, the gunshot found me. In real life, I knew it hadn't hit anything—Aizawa and the others stopped me—but in the dream…

Don't think about it, that's what Mogi kept telling me. I had tried hard to forget it, making my mind as empty as possible and keeping it that way, but pretending I hadn't shot Light was as good as pretending Light had never been Kira in the first place. That was reality, and I had to live with it.

It felt like just a second later the shot was echoing through my memories again, startling me out of restless sleep, but bright light streamed through the windows.

A heavy-handed knock jolted me out of the lingering hold of sleep, and I looked toward the living room, dry-eyed and holding my breath as I groped around for my cell phone, lost in the bedding some place. I remembered, then, that I hadn't charged it last night. It must have died, my alarm with it.

With the next knock, a stern voice called, "Matsuda! Open this damn door!"

I sat up stiffly. _Aizawa_?

"I'll break it down! You know I've always wanted to do that!"

Cussing to myself, I scrambled out of bed and rushed to unlock the front door.

Aizawa charged in, chocolate eyes lit with ferocity, characteristic mix of annoyance and seriousness already wrinkling his forehead and curling his lips as he scanned the apartment and then glared right at me.

Between his six-foot build and his salty demeanor, he was off-putting to nearly everyone, but in my case, it definitely didn't help that he was my captain. In fact, it made getting my head ripped off regularly just another part of my life.

"What are you doing?" he demanded before I could even stammer out a greeting. "You should have been at the station three hours ago, Corporal!"

Feeling my cheeks glow, I tried to find something to focus on besides his angry face. He'd cut his hair recently; for a while, he'd looked a little like a q-tip, but now his jet black hair was professionally short again. His goatee though, was getting thick. "Sorry…"

"We tried calling. You didn't pick up."

"Yeah." I worked my fingers through my tangled hair. "I guess my phone died."

Incredulously, he arched an eyebrow. " _You_ let your phone die?"

"I guess so."

Shaking his head like he barely knew what to make of that, he growled, "And what? You can't get your ass to work without it? I thought you died."

"No." I forced a smile, sick to know how fake it must look. "I'm fine. Just overslept."

Aizawa stared at me a few moments, stern expression slowly giving into concern. "Look, kid…"

 _Kid? Since when?_ Sure, I was almost ten years younger than him, but at thirty-one I wasn't a kid. He'd never called me that before in his life.

"If you need more time off, take it."

Didn't that sound nice? Crawl into bed, order nothing but pizza, and just hide for another month. Or two.

No, that sounded terrible. What would I do with myself if I spent even one more day sitting around here beating myself up for Light's death?

"I'm fine," I insisted with a smile. "Besides, you're not the chief yet; I can't take time off just because you said to."

Aizawa's bushy eyebrows gathered together in sudden confusion. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Again, I hesitated. "Ide and Mogi said you're next in line to be chief… Didn't you know that?"

"Nobody told me," he grumbled dryly, like he wasn't surprised, and then got back on topic. "Two weeks off isn't all that much, especially not after such a long case."

The Kira investigation went on for years, it stretched us all thin, and it ended with the death of a coworker—a friend. Even two months off wouldn't be enough to help me cope, so why bother?

Besides, Aizwa, Ide, and Mogi all went back to work like they were ready to deal, and I would not be the wimp who had to request more time.

"I'll think about it," I told him, just to get him off my back. "Anyway, see you at the station."

Aizawa checked his watch. "If you hurry it up, you can just catch a ride with me."

"Oh… No, that's all right. You don't have to."

"I'm going to," he answered in his commanding 'I'm Aizawa and I do what I want' tone. "Hey." His footsteps drew closer to me. "You sure you're okay?"

I whipped around, growling, "I already told you I'm fine. What language do I have to say it in?"

His eyes widened with shock, mouth even dropping open

"Sorry," I murmured immediately, sure he'd tear me a new one.

Instead, Aizawa sighed, "All right, Matsuda. Just…do what you want." And then he stood back and scanned my apartment with a disapproving air.

Reluctantly, I looked too, realizing for the first time what a mess it was. I didn't have a single clean towel in my linen closet, but dirty laundry overflowed from the basket in the corner. Unpaid bills piled on the coffee table, dirty dishes cluttered the counters, and open cabinets revealed that I was almost completely out of food, but empty beer bottles seemed to have invaded every available space. Come to think of it, I wasn't even sure I had gas in my car to drive myself to work.

Embarrassed, I glanced at Aizawa. In the past, neatness had been one of the few qualities I'd taken pride in—what girlfriend _hadn't_ told me it was rare to find a guy who cared about keeping everything in its own place—but now it looked like I didn't care at all how my apartment looked, and he wouldn't have missed that. Snapping at him for expressing concern couldn't have helped.

Letting him give me a ride, though, might make him feel better. Aizawa believed deeply in his personal power to help others, and if he thought I was depressed, he'd be amped up about fixing it.

"Okay," I said suddenly. "I guess it doesn't make sense for me to drive."

At that, his expression lightened some, but he growled, "So move it. This is cutting into my lunch break."

As we cruised through the mid afternoon traffic, sometimes running the lights to get by, I glanced down at my rumpled suit. It had a coffee stain, which I'd tried to hide under my tie, but it really needed to be ironed. My hair was still wet from my shower, and my stomach roared.

Aizawa muttered as he drove, and occasionally shouted obscenities. Tokyo traffic usually annoyed him, and he'd always been impatient, but since the Kira case ended, he'd gotten worse.

Then again, what hadn't gotten worse?

Whenever we stopped at a light, I'd notice him looking at me from the corner of his eye, so I pulled my jacket around myself, trying to hide the wrinkles and the coffee stain.

"You didn't eat," he said suddenly.

"There wasn't any time."

"It looks like there wasn't any _food_ , Matsuda."

"I haven't been to the store in a while, I guess." I leaned against my fist and closed my eyes, feeling dead tired.

"Did your maid go on vacation too?"

Quietly, I told myself I should never have let him in. I should have ignored him, rolled over, and gone back to sleep.

"Well?"

Surprised, I turned to him. "What do you want me to say to that?"

"Why don't you explain what's wrong with you?"

"Nothing. I don't—"

"Look." Unexpectedly, he whipped out of the traffic to park outside a small breakfast café, killing the engine and turning in his seat to face me. "It's only been a month. If you're depressed about Light, you should say so."

I wrinkled my nose at the idea. "Depressed? I'm not depressed."

"Sleeping late, missing work, letting your place go to hell…" He shook his head and lowered his voice, speaking with more reluctance. "We've all noticed you're not yourself."

I tried to laugh, "Yeah, but I'm not _depressed_."

What did I have to be depressed about? I shot him, sure. I shot him point blank. I tried to kill him, really. He was a friend—I thought—I cared about him at least, and I thought he cared about me. Still, depressed was such a strong word.

At length, Aizawa muttered, "It's not every day you gun down a friend."

I felt the recoil of the gun and heard the boom again as it fired; I closed my eyes and saw the splash of red like paint on a black canvas.

Aizawa touched my shoulder, and I jumped. "You need to pull it together."

"Can we not talk about it? Please?"

"Matsuda, you can't just pretend everything is normal."

"I'm not. It's just that I'm not depressed." I unbuckled my seatbelt. "Are we eating here, or did you pull over just to lecture me?"

I knew he hated to have his best efforts rebuffed—he expected people to listen the first time and not ask questions—but he wasn't stupid enough to push me either, so we went into the café and had a really quiet lunch before continuing on our way to the police station.

During the drive, even though I didn't feel like talking, I tried to make conversation to distract him from the road rage. "I can't believe nobody told you they want to make you the chief. How does that work anyway?"

"I don't know," he muttered.

"Well, did you miss an email or something? Or did they really just not say anything?"

"I really don't know."

From his tone, I could tell he wasn't interested in talking about it, and that probably meant he was still worried about me. Normally, if something worried him, he obsessed about it, and it was very hard to get him to think about anything else.

The way he talked, Mogi and Ide might be worried too, and I didn't like that. I'd thought I was keeping it together fine, so what did they have to worry about? They all had their own lives and careers to handle. They were all trying to cope with the shock of how the Kira case had suddenly ended. They had more important things on their minds than my issues.

If I wasn't doing a good job keeping it together, I'd better try harder.

 **Aizawa**

As we walked through the station hallway, I noticed the lights flickering and the floors needed to be buffed. Fingerprints marred the windows from when some kids had passed. I knew a lot of the janitorial staff had quit, and I'd heard we were having trouble finding replacements—nobody wanted to work for the NPA right now—and it made me feel like the whole force was dying.

Kira had been dead for thirty-three days, and people expected him to come back at any moment, but while we'd been on the task force, our original job of policing the city must have gotten twisted around. By the time we came back, the whole world resented us for even announcing that we'd killed Kira, and the silence made them uneasy.

On January twenty-eighth, a new world had been born. Fresh and blinking, lost and confused, not sure who to follow or who to trust. Crime rates were low, leaving us with nothing to do. Average citizens blamed us for his vanishing. Wearing my badge earned me nasty looks in public, and even the news and the talk show hosts insinuated that it was the NPA's fault Kira had gone into hiding.

Eventually, it would all blow over, and in a while the new world would be just like the old one—full of violence, hatred, and fear.

Might as well enjoy the peace.

Hard to do with Matsuda on the fritz. I'd gotten so used to him being the voice of optimism, I wasn't sure how to compensate for it, and I had no idea how to shake him out of the haze he'd apparently wandered into.

For the first few days after Light's death, he'd completely disappeared, not answering his phone or his door. I'd been wrapped up in an exhausting debriefing session during that time, so there hadn't been much I could do, but by the time I saw him at the funeral, he was already too messed up to intervene.

For being so careless, Matsuda had always been surprisingly meticulous about his environment, but if it was just the sloppy state of his apartment or the lack of food, I'd look the other way. The change in his attitude was what worried me.

Most of the time, he seemed tremendously far away, disinterested, and straight up spacey. I really only saw him at work—and a whole lot less than I had for the last six years—so that didn't help me understand his exact condition, but I couldn't miss the unrest in his disgustingly fake smile.

To be honest, I'd hoped he'd go back to his old self once he got involved with a new investigation, but even after all this time, Matsu looked like he was sleepwalking, and I didn't like the feeling of standing behind delicate, red tape, watching him drown.

So, yes, I'd flipped a little when he didn't show up at work this morning. At first, the three of us grumbled about what an idiot he was and went on with our work. After all, since Light's funeral, he'd gotten into the habit of being fifteen or twenty minutes late everywhere he went.

After a couple hours, I supposed everyone else forgot about him, but I couldn't stop watching his desk, feeling more and more anxious with every second he wasn't sitting there.

Three hours turned out to be more than enough for me. New, moody Matsuda freaked me out too much. Even snapping at me for asking whether or not he was all right felt extremely out of character, and it left me not knowing what to expect.

If angry Matsuda would go to the extreme of shooting Light Yagami, I didn't dare put anything past depressed Matsuda, and I'd even worried about what I would find if I busted down the door to his apartment.

Yet he'd just looked at me like he didn't understand why I was there.

All of that seemed silly now, walking next to him. Yeah, his hair was ragged, and his suit wasn't washed or pressed, and he looked tired and distant, but that didn't mean he was going to go kill himself.

When we stepped off the elevator, I saw Ide and Mogi standing down the hall, waiting. They saw us, and Ide swiped some black hair back from his forehead and fumbled through his green suit for cigarettes, apparently trying to look unconcerned, but Mogi stared hard at us as we walked their direction.

"Hey, Mogi. Ide," Matsuda greeted them listlessly.

Ide stopped in front of him, folding his arms. We'd known each other a long time, and I knew past his generally tough exterior he was good at understanding other people's feelings. His voice couldn't quite mask the concern I noticed in his narrow eyes. "You're sure late today."

Mogi towered over Matsuda, thick build making the kid look smaller and more delicate than ever, but he sounded twice as earnest as Ide when he asked, "You okay?"

Rubbing his face, tiredly, Matsuda nodded. "I better let the commish know I'm here." He stepped past them and continued on his way.

Higher ups had been hard to come by since the Kira case started. At the moment, we had no chief, and Commissioner Ken Oshima was handling daily supervisions around here, temporarily. I didn't know him well, but he'd been at my debriefing.

God, there had been a hell I didn't need. Not twenty-four hours after Light had died, they'd dragged me in here and held me for hours at a time, trying to get all the facts, they'd said. Day after day of relentless questioning until I'd thought I might break. In the end, I'd only gotten out of it because Ide managed to get a hold of Near, who'd set them straight on what they did and didn't need to know about Kira.

After that, I'd written up a bullshit report, unsure of how to even attempt to fill in the gaps of classified information, and they'd finally left me alone. But Oshima had been watching me ever since.

Anyway, so far, he'd been pretty tolerant of slacking off, but coming in fifteen minutes late and coming in three hours late were vastly different, and I didn't want to give him any reason to set his sights on Matsuda next.

"I better go check back in myself," I announced, following Matsuda. If nothing else, if Oshima decided to rip him a new one, I'd be there to intervene.

Fortunately, Oshima didn't have much to say. He was an older guy with graying hair and hard eyes, and I could tell Matsuda's idiotic story about letting his phone die and oversleeping _did_ irritate him, but he brusquely told him not to let it happen again, and then called me forward to explain where I'd been for an hour and a half. In fact, he seemed more annoyed with my absence than he did with Matsuda's, and I got the feeling he viewed me as a more valuable officer.

Originally—a long time ago—I'd thought the same thing, but after some of the things I'd seen Matsuda do, including shooting a pen out of Light's hand, it aggravated me to think that anyone might look down on him for having a softer demeanor.

"I went to pick up Matsuda," I told him, daring him to say anything about it.

Oshima's jowls quivered. "I have a hard time believing that was necessary, Captain."

Maybe it really hadn't been, but I hadn't known what else to do when his phone went directly to voicemail. Matsuda lived on his phone when he wasn't at work—even the fact that he'd let it die seemed like a warning sign to me.

I considered explaining that I'd been concerned for his safety, if only because the commissioner had the authority to suspend him a while longer. But in the end, that was a conversation I didn't want to have with someone I didn't quite trust.

Instead, I promised it wouldn't happen again, and then turned on my heel, gesturing for Matsuda to walk ahead of me and saying, sharper than I meant to, "Did you finish that assignment I gave you yesterday?"

From the way he looked at me, it seemed like he barely remembered I'd assigned him anything, and a sheepish, "Not yet, Captain," was all he had to say as we stepped out of Oshima's office.

Ever since the Kira case ended, every day felt just a little slower than the one that came before it, leading toward the most mind-numbingly boring day ever lived. The community safety and traffic bureaus still had things to do—domestic violence and traffic accidents—but our branch of the department no longer seemed necessary, and I was tempted to transfer just to get back on the street.

To make matters worse, Oshima hadn't been doing much delegating; supposedly, he was stretched too thin, just like everyone else, and so far I'd had to be pretty proactive just to find a job to do. It gave me an opportunity to finalize and edit the official report on the Kira investigation, as well as to keep working with Ide, Mogi, and Matsuda. All three of them seemed content to help me out, but once we had that filed, I might have to get a little more creative to keep from dying of boredom.

What really bothered me, though, was that as soon as we _did_ get a new chief, that person _would_ delegate, and I didn't know when I'd get to work with the three of them again.

It shouldn't matter, I kept telling myself. They were just coworkers. And still, undeniably, after all that time of being able to count on them, of knowing that even if it turned out we couldn't trust L I could trust my fellow detectives, being around them felt natural and safe even. I couldn't imagine not working with them, filing paper work and taking coffee breaks, chatting at the water cooler like everything was normal when it seemed like they were the only people in the world I still had anything in common with.

Even being chief might not fix that. In fact, being chief would mean more sitting at a desk than ever before, working alone on everything that came my way.

 _Just enjoy the peace_ , I reminded myself.

When it was nearly time to clock out, Mogi appeared to place a large stack of papers on my desk. "I finished my compilation for the Kira investigation."

"Thanks." I studied the form I was supposed to be filling out and tapped my pencil, and then I suddenly felt annoyed. The NPA didn't want to help with the Kira investigation, but of course they'd better make sure they had a record of it. Like they'd helped all along.

Being chief wouldn't keep things like that from happening either.

"See you later, Aizawa," Mogi said abruptly, and started to walk away, never one to waste words on pleasantries.

With a sigh, I set my forms aside and grabbed my jacket. "I might as well head out too. Gotta give Matsuda a ride home." Throughout the day, I'd watched Matsuda wander around the station looking lost or spending a lot of time staring off into space. It made me frown. Technically, I was supervising him—I could have snapped at him to pay attention, but I'd decided against it.

 _That_ really _won't fly if I become chief._

Mogi and I walked in silence for a moment before he asked, "Did you find out what's going on with him?"

"I didn't realize I was supposed to," I answered, dryly.

"Not even in passing?"

"I don't know," I sighed, reluctant to express the concerns I'd been feeling for the last few weeks. "Obviously this whole thing with Light was harder for him than it was for us."

"He was close with Soichiro," Mogi mused.

There had been times I'd thought it was borderline inappropriate how close he was to Chief Yagami, going to his house with him, talking to him like they were friends, but I guessed Matsuda needed that, and the former chief had inspired that kind of affection in all of us, one way or another.

"Matsuda's a grown man," I decided. "None of us should waste time worrying about him."

Mogi only grunted.

I said the words, but there was a softness to Matsuda. In addition to the age gap between us, his youthful energy made him seem like a kid to me, and he had a gentleness I'd always thought would work against him in his career as a police officer. He was naïve and reckless. If I _didn't_ watch his back, I wasn't sure anyone else would take it upon themselves.

"He should see someone," Mogi decided.

Startled, I looked up at him, but as usual, his plain-featured face revealed very little. "What, like a therapist?"

He nodded sagely.

Seeking help from a stranger for your personal problems… What a foreign concept in my mind. I could hardly believe people did it.

"After shooting Light like that," he went on, "who wouldn't be depressed?" He loosened his tie and cleared his throat, and then he hesitated, giving me the impression he wasn't sure how to proceed. "Ide and I…think you should talk to him about it."

"Why me?"

"He looks up to you."

"But not either of you?" They knew better—Matsuda looked up to all of us—and talking to him about something that delicate would require a lot more tact than I possessed.

"I just thought you could try it," he added after a moment of silence.

We had reached the main lobby of the building, where Ide and Matsuda stood at reception. They'd always been the chatty ones, even though Ide's dry remarks were an odd contrast to Matsuda's unstructured babble, and it was strange to see my old friend muttering, practically to himself, about what he'd had going on lately, drawing on his cigarette, filling in Matsuda's side of the conversation while casting him occasional sidelong glances like the silence bothered him.

Even at a distance, I could see the disturbed look on the kid's face, characterized by a vacant stare and a deep frown like a gash across his chin.

Mogi and I stopped, and I grumbled, "As far as I'm concerned, he just needs to deal with it."

Mogi's expression and voice didn't change, but he said, "Isn't that a little cold, Aizawa?"

Even though the words did make me feel somewhat guilty, I muttered, "Even if he looks up to me, it's not like I'm any kind of authority figure."

"They're talking about promoting you to chief of police," he said suddenly.

"So I heard."

"I guess if that happens, you _will_ be responsible for Matsu."

"There must be other candidates."

He shrugged. "I would assume so."

Ide had noticed us and stared right at me, obviously expecting me to come and bail him out of an awkward situation. He even called, "You guys going home, or what?"

"What about you, Mogi?" I asked, moving forward again. "You'd make a good chief."

One raised eyebrow barely wrinkled his stoic look. "No. I'm thinking about leaving the NPA altogether."

Startled, I paused. "Where would you go?"

He shrugged. "I've got a couple ideas. Nothing is final yet."

We reached Ide and Matsuda, spent a few moments discussing our version of the boring day we'd just put in, and then made our way to the exit. Ide and Mogi went to their own vehicles, and Matsuda followed me to mine, maintaining his unnatural silence the whole way.

Of course, I _wanted_ to help him, but I had no control over his decisions; I had my own career to think of.

All the same, when we got into the car, I found myself dwelling on what Mogi had suggested. It was common enough, I supposed, for people experiencing depression to seek professional help, and since Matsuda had outright denied being depressed earlier, it clearly hadn't crossed his mind to ask anyone for help. Even the blank way he'd stared at me when I showed up at his apartment seemed to indicate that he just wasn't thinking about anything like that.

There must be other options, though, ways to snap out of it if he tried. It might just depend on how deep the depression really ran.

"Hey," I said suddenly, and my voice sounded unnaturally loud in the silence of the car. "How would you like to come over for dinner some time this week? We'd love to have you."

I'd never invited him anywhere before, and from the way he paused, I knew he was surprised. In a moment, he tried to smile as he said, "Oh… No, thanks. I'm fine."

Stopping at a traffic light, I couldn't help frowning at him. "You know, you're not supposed to refuse a dinner invitation that casually. You could at least make up some excuse."

"An excuse? What kind of excuse do you want me to make up?"

"Hell, I don't know." The light changed, and I kept driving. "Anything's better than thanks I'm fine."

In lieu of sheepish excuses, the silence resumed, and I felt foolish. At his level of disinterest, I should have known he'd decline the invitation, and, actually, I didn't know what difference it would make even if he'd accepted. Matsuda wasn't going to snap out of his funk simply because he came over to my place for dinner one night.

It did give me a better idea of just how bad he was doing, though. Matsuda loved being social, even to the point that he'd always had a way of making something as serious as investigating the Kira case feel like a hangout, trying to make friends with everyone when we were there just to work.

Strange, though. For being that way, he'd never talked much about his personal life, and over the six years of getting to know him, I'd gradually come to realize that he didn't have many friends or even much family.

Having no support system during an emotional crisis couldn't help, and that wasn't something I could fix for him.

Outside, a light drizzle of rain began, and I focused ferociously on the unnerving quiet between us. In the past, he'd always filled any silence with meaningless conversation—opinions on pop culture and celebrity gossip, or bragging about personal conquests, mostly—and I'd snort vague responses or mutter at him about anything I thought actually warranted a reply. Raving about actors and gloating about buying a new TV hadn't often been appropriate, considering the circumstances, but I missed it, I admitted to myself. In a strange way, I missed _him_.

"How's the bachelor life going?" I asked suddenly.

Bewildered, this time he stared at me. "Fine. Why?"

"Just wondering if maybe you met somebody." I knew better. His dating game had never been impressive either, and the one or two times he'd _actually_ picked somebody up, it had been all he could talk about for days, his excitement sweeping him along like a river, until he got dumped, which tossed him over the edge into a somewhat sulky mood not so different from this one. The difference, though, was this time it was lingering, affecting every aspect of his life.

I added, "You've been distant lately," hoping he'd recognize it as an opportunity to be real with me.

Matsuda just said, "Oh," and then muttered, "Still single."

"Well, maybe you'll have better luck now that the case is over. You're not getting any younger—time to settle down." I flashed him a half-hearted grin I _hoped_ seemed friendly, if not supportive.

Matsuda's eyebrows etched together like the smile just confused him.

"When's the last time you even went on a date?" I wondered, teasingly.

Gradually, he turned to the window again. "It's been a while, I guess."

Throwing discretion to the wind, I told him, "You'll have to try and move on at some point."

I'd thought I said it carefully—gently even—but Matsuda glared at me, and I knew I'd missed the mark. "You think I'm doing this on purpose?" he demanded, outraged.

"Of course not," I said quickly. "I'm just saying… Light wasn't even related to you."

Way to stay in character. I kicked myself. Way to be completely blunt and insensitive.

He had nothing to say, and I knew I'd only added to his turmoil.

This was exactly why I didn't think I should be the one to talk to him about anything delicate.

Trying to tone it down, I amended, "Touta, I'm just saying, if you're so upset it's going to affect your work, you'll have to do something about that."

As much as it had alarmed me on a personal level, I knew his coming in late and disheveled could turn into a real problem if he made a habit of it. No chief worth his salt would overlook this level of sloppiness, no matter the reason, and I thought, suddenly, that more important than convincing him to do something was to try and find a way to stress the gravity of the situation to him.

After all, just now, this job seemed to be all he had, and if Matsuda got fired, he'd utterly collapse into his depression.

"What do you think I should do?" he murmured.

That was what I wanted to hear, in a way, and at the same time, I had no idea what to tell him. Coming right out to say, go see a doctor felt like overstepping a serious boundary.

"I don't know," I admitted, finally. "Get yourself together, that's all I'm saying; find a girl. Get involved with something outside work. Whatever helps."

Giving a brief sigh, he suddenly brightened his tone and asked, "Heard anything about the promotion?"

Nothing annoyed me more than to have someone ask my opinion and then refuse to acknowledge it. If he didn't care what I thought, why ask in the first place. "No," I grumbled. "Nothing."

"Don't you wanna be the chief?"

"Sure. More work though. More time away from home."

"The pay's better," he reminded me with a ghost of his old sanguinity. "That might make up for it."

"Yeah," I agreed, not sure how to explain the way the possibility of promotion made me feel. More money sounded great, and so did calling more of the shots for a change. It would likely be less dangerous. By all accounts, it was a step in the right direction.

My guts twisted as I reluctantly thought back on my interrogation. After that, I'd assumed it would be years before I got any kind of promotion at all, so why in the world would they suddenly be thinking of making me chief?

Kira had left me feeling dog-tired, stretched, old, disillusioned with everything. Even if I wanted the promotion, I didn't know if I was up to it right now.

By the time we pulled up in front of Matsuda's apartment, the rain had started to pour, but he opened his car door without a thought to it.

"Borrow my umbrella," I offered.

"It's not that far. Thanks for the ride."

As he started to climb out, I snagged his arm, and he whipped around to stare at me, giving me the impression that he really wanted to get away from me right then, and I honestly couldn't blame him, but all the same, if nothing else, I needed him to understand my concerns, at least in part.

"Hey. Remember," I said sternly. "If they make me chief, and you come in almost four hours late on _my_ watch…" I drew a short breath to keep from wincing as I grated out the cold words, "I'll take your badge."

Matsuda held my gaze a long moment, measuring whether I truly meant that or not, and, again, I thought it seemed like he didn't completely understand this crack he'd apparently fallen into.

"This isn't some job at a crappy fast food place, Corporal," I explained.

It didn't matter that he was depressed, I told myself. It didn't even matter that we were friends. In a way, it wasn't fair, but he was the only one who could figure out how to navigate through this in a professional and healthy way, and he needed to start working on that before anyone higher ranked than me noticed how badly he was failing.

Suddenly, Matsuda forced a grin. Amazing. It looked almost perfect—straight and white, lighting his face, turning back the clock to a month or two ago when he'd been okay—but his eyes looked darker than ever, and his voice fell flat as he agreed, "You got it, Captain."

With that, he jerked away and shut the car door in my face.

For a moment, I watched him stalk up to the building, hunched in his coat, all the energy I'd always known him to have just gone. A little voice nagged at me that I'd better do something.

I heard it a lot, that voice. It drove me in all sorts of circumstances. It had driven me to become a criminal investigator, it had driven me through the academy, and it had earned me every promotion I'd ever gotten. It drove me to get involved with the Kira case, it drove me to form my own task force when I had to leave L's investigation, and it drove me to start cooperating with Near when I'd come to realize Light was Kira.

But, I recognized grimly, this wasn't my problem, and I didn't have much control over the situation. The only thing to my advantage was having a couple ranks and almost ten years on Matsuda, and I knew that just wasn't enough.

 **Matsuda**

"Okay," I said with a deep sigh, as I watched Aizawa's tail lights vanish into the rain. "This is getting bad."

It just wasn't like Aizawa to get involved in other people's business; fake inviting me to dinner and asking awkward questions about my love life was bad enough, but to actually try and tell me what I should do with my personal life crossed a boundary he'd never stepped over before.

From the second I first laid eyes on him, I'd known he was a prickly guy—brusque, quiet, a subtle skepticism constantly ribbing his forehead—and, to many people in the department, he was intimidating. According to rumors, Hideki Ide was the only person in the whole department he'd actually liked.

But he was also Shuichi Aizawa. Even in the academy, I'd heard good things about him—impressive things. Nothing crazy or heroic like some of the rumors I'd heard about Chief Yagami, but for being just a corporal at the time, Aizawa had had a promising career, already full of valuable achievements.

Back then, I'd wanted nothing more than to be that way also. In a way, I'd always been a loser, but I'd also believed that if I could just surround myself with winners, it might rub off on me. With that in mind, I'd introduced myself to him and Ide, and they'd looked at me about the way everyone else on the force did. Like they had no idea what I was even doing there.

I never let it deter me, though. I'd really tried, pathetic as it was, to get Aizawa to like me even a little, but with every dumb thing I'd said and every stupid mistake I'd made throughout the Kira investigation, I'd only ever seemed to prove to him that I was just an idiot.

With Mogi and Ide, and even _Light_ , I'd reached _some_ level of genuine friendship. And it wasn't that I didn't think Aizawa and I were friends, I guess, it's just that, for years now, he'd brushed off every attempt I'd ever made at making things personal.

I didn't mind so much. I'd come to understand that he had a stringent code for keeping work and personal stuff separate, and, probably, the reason everyone thought Ide was the only person he actually liked in the department was just because they'd been in the academy together, before he'd even made that rule for himself.

Obviously, he cared. He wouldn't say anything if he didn't care. But if he was breaking his own rule now, that could mean he was more worried than he was letting on. It might even mean Mogi and Ide were pressuring him to say something to me.

 _I'm fine though_ , I told myself as I headed upstairs. _It's just a slump_.

Then again, I was normally so cheerful, maybe it just seemed really horrible any time I got a little down.

 _That has to be all it is._ They just aren't used to seeing me this way.

My family had always been the same way. When my first girlfriend had dumped me, when I hadn't made the cut for martial arts club, when I'd failed my criminal justice course in the academy and had to start over, they'd hovered, trying to cheer me up, exchanging worried glances. Even as a kid, if I got beat up, or fell out with a buddy, or got too involved in pondering life's complexities, if I stopped laughing and smiling for even a second, my mother or one of my sisters was always quick to tell me they didn't like seeing me so unhappy. Dad always just grumbled, "Quit crying, Touta. Be a man, for God's sake."

I got it, though. By the time I was in my twenties, I finally understood that the people around me thought I was on the verge of emotional collapse any time I had an even slightly disappointing day. So I'd resolved to keep smiling—always—to see the bright side, to be optimistic in all circumstances. That was my nature anyway, so it wasn't so hard, grinning through my own pain.

 _When Sumi cheated on me, the guys got pretty worried…_

Immediately, I shook that thought off. I couldn't think about Sumirei now—never—but especially not now. Everything I was going through was already bad enough without remembering the way she'd clenched and twisted my heart as she ripped it out of my chest.

But I did remember that, for once, I hadn't been able to keep smiling. I'd wandered, listlessly into headquarters, only to find the other four staring at me like I'd grown a second head. I'd muttered, "I'm fine. Sumi broke up with me. Whatever," and gotten to work, but the rest of the week, even though none of them asked me directly what had happened, they'd hovered. They'd whispered behind my back. They'd tried to engage me in small talk, even striking up conversations on insignificant topics they would have normally gotten annoyed with hearing about. It sucked. I'd tried to be normal for them, the way I always had been before, but Sumi…

 _Anyway. This is different,_ I thought as I entered my apartment. _This isn't the same at all…_

Sumi was out there. Sure, she broke my heart, but occasional visits to her Facebook page told me she was doing good. She was happy. She met somebody else, got married, had a couple kids.

Light, though… Light was dead, and I didn't know how to fake my old attitude. I didn't know if I could ever be that way again.

When I got to my apartment, I stripped off my wet jacket and shirt, leaving both, along with my tie, lying in a heap on the couch, and went to find a towel I couldn't remember using recently. As I dried my hair, I sauntered into the living room to flip the TV on just so I wouldn't feel alone.

 _Maybe Aizawa's right. Maybe I need a woman in my life._

I hadn't dated much since taking the Kira case on; after Sumi, I hadn't dated at all. That was more than two years ago, but now I felt so overwhelmed with my own emotions I didn't know if I could give another human being what they needed.

In the fridge, I found an old beer, and then went and slouched down on the couch, shoving aside some of the clutter consuming it, and vegged out for a while, watching the news.

Peace ruled everywhere. I didn't see a single report of danger or death, and in fact it seemed like the news anchors hardly had anything to talk about, so they filled the time with jokes and flirted with their female reporters, showing puff piece after puff piece. Once, they briefly mentioned Lord Kira and the fact that he hadn't done anything over the last four weeks. I wondered when they'd finally realize he was dead and not coming back at all.

That thought dragged me back to the image of Light lying there, writhing in a puddle of his own blood, cursing and hating us—his friends. It made me feel guilty and dirty.

Wincing, I focused harder on the puff pieces, thinking maybe I should switch over to something even more lighthearted.

Just as I picked up my remote, the female anchor received a piece of paper from off camera. She reviewed it a second and then looked at the audience again, voice grave, eyes sparkling with excitement.

"This just in: the pop star, Misa Amane has gone missing."

I almost dropped my beer. "Misa-Misa?"

"According to her manager, she hasn't been seen in several days." A photograph of the familiar smiling face of Misa-Misa popped up on the right hand side of the screen, blonde hair glowing, blue eyes bright. "If anyone has any information regarding Misa-Misa, please contact your local police, or call the number now appearing at the bottom of your screen.

Hungry for any sign of trouble, the news anchors discussed the story a moment, and I studied the picture.

Since she'd been cleared as the second Kira, and Light was dead, and the notebook was safe, there hadn't been any point in arresting her, but she'd always been worried about stalkers. For all I knew, one of them kidnapped her.

What worried me more, though, was the last time I saw her, I accidentally let it slip that Light had been killed… Well, I hadn't _really_ let it slip. She'd asked. I'd felt responsible. Someone had to tell her eventually. Not knowing how to lie to her about it, I'd just blurted it out, and only later had I realized just how indelicate all of that had been. When I'd left, she'd been crying.

Whipping out my phone, I dialed her number. Hopefully, she was recuperating somewhere and she'd answer if she got a call from someone she knew, but it went to voice mail, and I left a hurried message.

For the next ten minutes, I walked around and around my apartment, debating if I should go and look for her or not, throwing my shirt and jacket back on, and then taking the jacket off, on, and off again. At last, I decided it was better to call someone else than it was to panic all by myself.

I phoned Aizawa, and he answered promptly. "What is it, Matusda?"

His voice sounded serious and careful; he probably thought I'd freaked out or needed help.

I blurted out, "Turn on the news!"

"Matsuda, I _just_ left your place. I'm not even home yet."

"Well, I'm watching the news, and—"

"Dammit, Matsuda, you better not tell me there's another Kira."

That was the thing we all dreaded—the worst thing possible—that there might be yet another notebook, or that Light had had another accomplice who'd bide his time and then appear when we least expected it.

"No, it's Misa—they say she's been missing for days!"

Aizawa waited for me to say more, and then gave a deep sigh. "You called to tell me some pop star disappeared?"

"Some pop star? Aizawa, it's Misa. Remember Misa?"

"Yeah, I remember Misa—she was always nothing but trouble."

I felt some of my anger coming back. "What are you saying? You think it isn't important?"

"No, I'm saying I don't know what you want me to do right now."

"Haven't you heard anything about this? You're supposed to be the next chief. Aren't there any leads?"

Frustration started filtering into his voice. "This is the first time I've heard about it."

"So this hasn't been reported to the NPA yet?"

"Not to _me_."

"Then—"

"Matsuda, listen. Just don't worry about it right now. If you want to help Misa, get yourself to bed so you can be at your best tomorrow."

"But I—"

"And for God's sake, Matsuda, don't do something stupid. Okay?"

I didn't know what he expected me to do that might be stupid, but it was obvious he wasn't interested in Misa's disappearance.

"Okay," I agreed tiredly.

"I'm gonna hold you to that. Now I'll see you tomorrow."

"Yeah, bye."

He hung up before I even said the word bye, and I held the phone a few extra seconds before turning it off and sliding it back into my pocket. I knew he was right, as much as I hated it; there was nothing I could do right now.

 **Ide**

"Missing pop icon," I told Aizawa, struggling to find some balance between approval and gravitas. "You really are on your way to the top."

Broad nose wrinkled, he didn't even try to look pleased as he stared down at the assignment Commissioner Oshima had tossed onto his desk. "I don't like that it's Amane," he muttered so only I could hear.

"I think it makes sense," I told him. "You worked with her before—you have a good shot of actually finding her."

Still, he sighed, ever the pessimist.

"Shuichi," I half-scolded. "This is the biggest case to hit the department in God knows how long, and they chose _you_ to run it. If that's not a sign that they honestly intend to promote you, I don't know what is."

"Why, though?" he wondered.

I studied him, not sure what to say. The Shuichi Aizawa I'd met twenty years ago in the academy wouldn't ask _why_ ; he'd chomp at the bit for this promotion, throw himself into the investigation head first, and obsess over it until he'd gotten it solved, and then he'd accept the new position with quiet dignity, as if he hadn't done anything special to get there.

Very severe cynicism had crept into him gradually over the years, but I'd noticed it had gotten much worse since we finished off the Kira case; it was probably normal, I guessed, that Light's betrayal had that adverse affect on him. Outside of that, though, I'd started to notice wrinkles on his forehead that didn't used to be there, and that, I thought, was something the higher-ups had done to him.

After the Kira case, he hadn't even received the full two weeks the rest of us had gotten. No, they had to push him and harass him right away, with no regard to protocol.

For those three days, I'd been here also, sometimes watching through the glass of the interrogation room as they picked at him like a common criminal, sometimes directly challenging Commissioner Oshima and Director Boko on what they were doing, always looking for an opportunity to help him.

On the third day of the debriefing, after more than thirteen hours of watching them all but torture my friend for information, he'd practically begged to see me alone, but they'd only let me go in long enough for us to smoke a cigarette together. While I'd been there, close to him, he'd whispered Near's number to me—he was the only one who'd had it at that point—and I'd realized he must be close to cracking after all. Stubbornness could only get one so far.

When I called Near not fifteen minutes later, he'd agreed to speak with the NPA director about the situation; Aizawa must have known he'd have a better shot at answering their questions without compromising information of a classified nature. It worked, I guessed, because by the time Eriko showed up, all but screaming about suing the NPA for the unlawful detainment of her husband, Director Boko had come back, all smiles, apologizing to her and saying they were going to let Aizawa go immediately.

Still, as the three of us had left the station, I'd told Aizawa, _they want that information bad, Shuichi. They're not going to let it go just because they can't get it out of you._

 _I know,_ he'd huffed.

Since then, we'd been on guard. It was hard to accept that the officials who were supposed to be protecting us were willing to treat us that way, and scarier even to think about why they so adamantly wanted to uncover Kira's identity in the first place, but I knew Aizawa was stressed about it.

Suddenly being handed an important case like this and having a promotion dangled over his head did feel almost sinister.

"I've got your back," I told him. "Let's just find Amane so that you can be chief and start straightening this place out again."

The department had fallen far and hard from the tight way Soichiro Yagami had run it, and I knew that better than anyone since I'd spent a great deal of time watching protocol and work ethic gradually erode while the others worked with L. By the time I went to rejoin the task force, it really was strictly because I just missed Aizawa's good judgment, integrity, and veracity.

"Mogi should be good for a case like this," Aizawa decided, finally getting to his feet and beginning to lead the way across the office. "He knows Amane the best."

Evidently, Commissioner Oshima couldn't be bothered to select an entire team, but I didn't know if that was out of laziness or if it might be yet another way he was screwing with us.

"He's very thorough also," I agreed, matching his professional tone. "Who else do you want, Captain?"

Not answering, he gazed down the hall, eyes somewhat distant, and, as usual, I could tell exactly what he was thinking.

Moving a little closer to him, I murmured, "I think you'd better leave Matsuda out of it."

"So annoying," he grumbled. "Working on something like this would probably be good for him."

"Possibly," I agreed. "But if Amane turns up dead, the last thing he'll need is to be in the middle of it."

Aizawa nodded and suddenly waved the file in his hand at Matsuda's desk, which we happened to be passing. "He's not even here yet."

"He's only a few minutes late."

Brow furrowing, he shook his head in utter disapproval, and we continued on our way until we found Mogi.

He seemed to know already that Amane was missing, and despite his overall collected demeanor, I could tell it worried him. After serving a long time as her bodyguard, I had no doubt it was difficult for him to think of her potentially being in danger.

Maybe it would be best to keep him off the case as well, but Aizawa briefed him on what we knew already, and then set to trying to select one more investigator.

Mogi accepted that it wouldn't be Matsuda without question and then recommended Sergeant Karisa Yoko, saying he'd worked with her in the past and that her eye for detail was excellent.

Being one of the only women currently in our department, we had all heard of Yoko. Early in her career, she'd played a huge role in busting a drug ring, and since then, she'd been sort of a legend.

It didn't matter. Mogi's recommendation was more than enough to convince Aizawa, and he went to find her next while Mogi and I made our own preparations.

"You up for this, Sergeant?" I asked, slipping back into my overcoat.

He inclined his head in a slight nod.

"From what I heard, it might be one of the last cases you work."

"Aizawa told you," he said, not sounding surprised.

"I think it bothered him. I'm just curious to know where you'll go. The job's lost some of its luster, sure, but if you're bored now, I doubt being a regular civilian will be much better."

Fixing his serious gaze on me, he said simply, "I've been thinking about trying to join L."

Astonished, I stopped to stare at him. "Really?"

Mogi murmured, "Don't look so surprised, Ide," and suddenly walked away.

Thoughtfully, I watched him go, and I couldn't help being surprised. Mogi would probably do well working under L—he had in the past—and I understood if he was frustrated with the NPA in general, but I'd never been a fan of the original L, and I couldn't see that his successor was much better when it came to arrogance and eccentricity. In my mind, working for L had never been an option.

Aizawa returned shortly, speaking into his phone, probably with Eriko, and jerking his head for me to follow him. He'd slipped into his aviator sunglasses, and with his dark suit and long coat, he looked like a character from a cop drama, hardboiled and determined.

Sergeant Karisa Yoko followed him.

She was a beautiful woman with short black hair and ice blue eyes. Her pale complexion and solemn look gave her an otherworldly appearance, but she smiled at me, speaking in a cool voice. "Good morning, Lieutenant."

"Sergeant," I muttered, lighting a cigarette and still distracted by what Mogi had said. Plenty of officers had come and gone over my time on the force; some had even died. It wasn't especially sensible to get overly attached to any coworker, but the Kira investigation tied the four of us together with a strange bond of secrets and frightening memories. To think of any of the other three suddenly not being there felt inexplicably lonely.

We headed out to the cruisers together, and I half listened to Aizawa's conversation with Eriko. He seemed to be reassuring her even though, so far, this case didn't look dangerous, and I wondered if things were going all right between them.

When we'd reached the garage level, Mogi reappeared, Matsuda behind him, hurrying to keep up with Mogi's longer gait.

"Oh, hell," I muttered when I saw him. Unbelievably, he looked worse than yesterday with his hair a mess and his suit badly rumpled. At a distance, it was easier to tell how much weight he'd lost in one short month, looking something like a skeleton draped in a suit, and his skin even looked waxy.

"Aizawa!" he called, suddenly galloping toward us, and I heard Shuichi issue a nearly inaudible sigh. If anything was really stressing him out these days, I felt sure it must be Matsuda. For one thing, the kid had a tendency to blurt out whatever happened into his head, and we all worried he might accidentally leak information about Kira, especially if someone interrogated him the way they had Aizawa.

More importantly, though, we'd been lenient on his overly friendly behavior while on the task force, but here at the station, ranks and professionalism were paramount, and I knew Aizawa's position as Matsuda's superior was really conflicting with his concerns about his personal well-being.

"I'll talk to him," I offered automatically.

"No," Aizawa huffed, "I'd better do it," and then said to Eriko, "no, I don't think I'll be too late, but if you want to have dinner without me, that's fine."

By that time, Matsuda had reached us and started walking right beside Aizawa, impatiently waiting for him to get off the phone. Up close, the dark circles under his eyes looked worse than ever, and his expression revealed what could almost be described as panic. The moment Aizawa hung up, he jumped in with, "Mogi told me you're in charge of finding Misa!"

"That's right," Aizawa agreed, even voice especially soft compared to Matsuda's shouting.

"So what are we doing? I think we should split into groups.'

"I'll take that under advisement, Corporal," Aizawa said, barely glancing at him, "but you're staying here. You're not part of the investigation."

I winced a little at the harsh way he'd said it, and everyone fell silent; only the sounds of our footsteps bounced in the stark hall around us as we drew closer to the parking garage exit.

Matsuda scrambled to change his mind. "C'mon, you know I'm worried about her!"

"I do know that, but we don't need you."

Matsuda stared up at him, obviously hurt, and the rest of us faced straight ahead, pretending we couldn't hear them.

At last, Matsuda demanded, "What the hell am I supposed to do while the three of you go out looking for Misa? Just sit here?"

"How about you finish the assignment I gave you two days ago, Corporal?"

"Unbelievable!" Matsuda exploded. "A friend of mine is missing, and you want me to sit here and file papers!"

I gaped. It was completely unlike him, even with his poor filter, to show such blatant disrespect to a superior, let alone to turn so quickly to rage.

"Hey." I grabbed his arm suddenly, saying sternly, "That's the captain you're talking to."

Matsuda scowled at me, but it subdued him enough to shut him up, and Aizawa stopped to say, "Mogi, you and Yoko go to Misa's apartment. Ide, I'll meet you at the car." Beyond his sunglasses, his expression was almost impossible to make sense of, but I wanted to think he wouldn't completely unload on the kid over such mild insubordination.

Letting go of Matsuda, I hurried with the other two toward the garage. Just as I stepped through, I heard Aizawa saying, "You want the truth—here it is…"

Mogi and I exchanged glances, and I rolled my eyes before he led Yoko to their cruiser.

Waiting for Aizawa didn't take long; I got to finish my cigarette, and by then he was tromping toward me, fists in his pockets, frowning more obviously now.

"How'd he take it?" I wondered.

"Fine," Aizawa muttered as he climbed in on the passenger's side. "You drive."

"He's going to be mad at you forever," I pointed out, getting in also.

"That's the least of my concerns."

"Be real," I suggested, starting the car. "I know it matters to you."

"It _matters_ ," he agreed, shortly, "it's just the least of my concerns. Anyway, I just hope he doesn't do anything dumb."

I laughed under my breath. "Matsuda? Don't count on it."


	2. Two

**Mogi**

"It's surprisingly clean," Yoko remarked, gazing analytically around the apartment Light and Misa had shared for five years.

Good housekeeping had never been a problem for the couple, but all the same it left me unsettled. Such cleanliness wasn't to be expected from a person who, presumably, was depressed over the loss of her lover, and it left me wondering where Misa had gone.

She was such a sweet girl, completely devoted to Light, and out of all those he'd left behind, I felt particularly sick over Misa's predicament.

More than once, I'd noticed a faint hardness in his eyes or a twist of his mouth that told me he was lying about being in love with her, and now that Light had been revealed as Kira, I assumed he'd used her, and I wondered if she'd had any sense of that herself.

Misa wouldn't have been able to stand that thought; she would have lied to herself, I felt sure, believing Light _did_ love her, but, in my mind, there was more to it now than simply a lack of true affection, and that was that I'd seen signs while they were together that Light didn't appreciate in the slightest what a beautiful and supportive woman he had. If I thought about it too hard, I knew it could infuriate me, just how casually he'd misused Misa.

But then, he'd misused us all, I remembered, without ever showing as much as a glimmer of remorse.

While Yoko checked through the living room, I headed down the hallway to the master bedroom. I'd been in Light and Misa's apartment multiple times; it was large, luxurious even. Stylish, meticulous rooms showed signs of Misa's fashion sense and Light's organization skills.

Looking back, Light fit the profile of a high-level serial killer, and I even wondered if I'd simply ignored the signs. After working with Soichiro Yagami for so many years, it was awful to know his son had been such an evil representation of death.

How selfish, masquerading as some savior, not caring about any of the lives he'd destroyed. It was enough to make anyone sick at heart.

So far, I lived the best I could, day by day, struggling to envision a future for myself, away from Tokyo, away from everything that smacked of the Kira investigation, but Misa's disappearance was a real problem. I couldn't go anywhere until I knew she was safe.

In the bedroom, overturned the mattress and dug through the dresser, but there wasn't so much as a wrinkle in the bed to suggest a struggle.

If she left of her own free will, where would she go? She was such a delicate woman, with a tendency to be careless and too quick to believe in the good nature of others. I didn't want to think about where she could be or what she might be going through.

As I left the bedroom, I checked my phone, hoping Aizawa and Ide could learn something from her manager. Neither of them was the type of man to let their own feelings distract them from the job, and they were sure to finish the interview with Misa's manager quickly, but that didn't mean they'd text me to let me know what they'd found out. I had to stay focused.

Being that this case was personal to all of us, I couldn't blame Aizawa for barring Matsuda from it, and I assumed Ide had backed him on that decision. As our only surviving senior officer on the Kira case, Aizawa was, for the most part, the only one having to deal with questions from the higher ups and interviews with reporters, possibly even shielding the rest of us from that, and I'd seen that he confided more in Ide now than ever before, or that Ide unobtrusively offered him counsel. I had no doubt that the two of them together had made the decision to sideline Matsuda.

Possibly, if Aizawa had known how I felt about Misa, I wouldn't be on this investigation either.

Feeling anything for her had been a mistake, but she was such a congenial, spirited woman, I hadn't been able to help enjoying her company. Just because it hadn't felt romantic, per say, didn't mean it never could have.

She'd even teased me about it a few times. _Do you have a crush on me, Motchi?_

Maybe a crush was all it had been.

Back in the living room, I studied a photograph sitting on the mantle. Misa had her arms locked around Light's neck, beaming like the sun, but he was the moon, callousness and cold barely showing through his radiance, revealed only by the hardness in his eyes and twist of his mouth. If he'd truly been using her, did that mean she was the second Kira? If so, what did that have to do with her disappearance?

At least Near had the notebook. He was the new L, and he already shown potential to be even smarter than the original.

After this case was over, I thought it might be wise to cut my losses here and join him. There wasn't much left for me in Tokyo, and everything reminded me of the way things had changed. I could do more good elsewhere.

Yoko came around the corner. "I found something."

I followed her down the hall and into the second bedroom, where I immediately noticed the reek of rotten flesh. My heart hammered with terror. She couldn't be dead. Not here. Not like this.

The room was empty though, save for a golden birdcage hanging from the ceiling. It looked empty, but Yoko approached it, covering her mouth with the sleeve of her coat, and took it down, holding it out for me to see the remains of a red and green bird lying on the floor of the cage, gaunt and starved. Maggots crawled through its skull.

Gagging, I stepped back. "She…she let it die…?"

"Possibly." Yoko set the cage aside, staring at me with her wide eyes. "If it's true that she only recently disappeared, that would mean she was still living here when the bird died."

Starving her pet was so out of character for Misa, I'd almost rather believe someone kidnapped her, but as Yoko had said, she'd only recently gone missing, and the bird had been dead at least a week.

Suddenly I hated myself for not staying in better contact with her over the last six weeks. The night Light died, I'd wanted to tell her immediately—it had been a sense of duty in my mind, as well as a requirement of the bond of trust between us—but Aizawa had asked that we let him handle informing the family because he'd wanted to make sure the cover up went smoothly. Unfortunately, though, he got detained before he could make any calls at all; I'd followed orders, impatiently keeping my mouth shut, but Matsuda had breached protocol, visiting Misa to deliver the news in person.

Ever since then, no matter how many times I called her, she never picked up.

Now I wondered if I should have breached protocol as well, come to her in person, and made sure she was doing all right.

"There's something else," Yoko broke into my thoughts. Setting the bird aside, she led the way back down the hall, around the corner, and into the kitchen. She pointed to the wooden knife holder on the counter. It was slotted for six blades, but one was missing.

"I've looked everywhere for the last knife: ever drawer, every cupboard, even in the other rooms of the house, but that sixth knife isn't here anywhere." She looked seriously at me. "It's gone."

From the couple of cases we'd worked together before the Kira investigation, I knew Yoko was sharp and observant, but all the same I double checked around the apartment. As I searched, my heart felt like it was filled with ice water.

"Would she have taken it with her?" Yoko asked.

I shook my head. Misa wasn't the type to hurt people. She wasn't the type to hurt herself.

"We could be looking for a body," Yoko whispered when we'd been standing in the silent apartment a moment. I wished she hadn't manifested that idea into words. I didn't want to picture beautiful Misa as a corpse.

For several minutes, I didn't answer. I passed around and around the room, observing all the pictures of Misa and Light, noticing over and over that awful look on his face, wondering how all of us had missed it. I could hardly stand the idea that she might want to hurt herself over a man who hadn't cared about her.

As I passed the mantle, I ran a single finger along the top, and it came back coated in thick dust, and then I marched to the laundry room. Like everything else, it looked spic and span, but the clothes inside the washer stank of mildew.

With a heavy heart, I returned to Yoko. "She hasn't been here in a long time."

She nodded. "I agree. Someone who let their pet bird wouldn't bother mopping the kitchen."

Slowly, I looked around again, remembering the happy afternoons I'd spent here, watching Misa prance through the kitchen and living room, trying to be a good hostess, keeping everyone entertained and content. I could almost hear her laughter ringing through the now-empty space.

Those days were gone forever now.

 **Matsuda**

Chilly wind blew through the night, and I turned my jacket collar against it, staring up at the dark windows of Light's old apartment.

 _I won't go in,_ I told myself. _I'm just passing by to make sure there aren't any lights on._

After the others had gone into the garage, out of earshot, Aizawa had gotten real with me, even taking his sunglasses off to fix a serious look on me as he said, "You've been flaky lately, and moody, and I don't think you understand the position you're putting me in."

"What is that?" I'd thrown my hands up. "You act like you don't trust me!"

"No, Matsuda. That isn't what I'm saying."

"You think I'm gonna flake out. I won't! Not when Misa is missing!"

Drawing a heavy breath, he'd said, "You're missing the point, Matsu."

"I know I'm not completely myself, but you can still _trust_ me—"

"The _point_ , Matsu, is that you haven't even recovered from our last case, and you're emotionally involved in this one."

There hadn't been any way to argue with that, so I'd just said, "I'm fine. I want to help."

Eyebrows raised slightly, he'd shook his head. "This is for your own good, Matsuda. Stick around here, relax, go home and get some rest tonight."

I'd half expected him to add you'll thank me later.

"Don't try to find Amane on your own, and don't try to interfere with our investigation. All right?"

He really meant that. Even when he and Ide came back to the station later in the day, they wouldn't answer any of my questions.

"You won't let me help," I'd pointed out, barely hiding my irritation. "The least you could do is keep me filled in."

"I have no problem keeping you filled in," Aizawa had told me, half sarcastically. "The problem is, I don't want you using the evidence I find during the day to take matters into your own hands at night."

"C'mon." I'd tried to laugh. "You think I'd be that stupid?"

"You're kinda famous for doing stupid stuff," Ide had said under his breath. Like usual, he was on Aizawa's side.

"I already told you I won't interfere. What else do you want?"

Aizawa had looked seriously at me, as if judging my honesty. "I want you to stay out of it."

Easier said than done. Once I'd gotten home, I'd found it impossible to sit still, impossible to keep my mind off Misa, even with the chores I had to do around my place. Eventually, I'd put my coat and shoes back on, telling myself I would just go out for some fresh air, but it didn't really surprise me that I'd wound up on this side of town.

Everything seemed quiet, but I stood outside a long time, watching, thinking it wasn't too late and I might even see her come home. If she did, I'd have to report it; Aizawa might be mad, but it would be worth it to know she was safe.

Still, it was strange being outside the building where Misa and Light had lived and loved together.

Loved…

With that word came this crashing realization that Light might not have ever loved Misa at all. Judging by the way he'd acted at the end of his life, he may not have loved _anyone_ , not even his own family.

Hopelessly, I tried to omit that idea from my mind. I had to hold on to the good memories I had of Light, so I thought about the day we'd been in Aoyama together, investigating…

On that day, he'd been so relaxed and sociable, making jokes with his friends and flirting with the girls around him. That was the day he told me he thought I was a good detective. Nobody had ever said that to me before, and it had made me feel like, for the first time, somebody might actually look up to me.

In my mind, the gun popped, and I saw the blood, and Light screamed, ordering me to kill the others like I was on his side. I felt his blood on my hands.

 _You never looked up to me, did you, Light? You never thought I was a good detective. You didn't think anything of me._

If only I hadn't been present on January 28th, then I could be like Misa and Sachiko and Sayu, never knowing Light had been Kira, and his death might be easier to bear if I'd had the comfort of believing in his innocence.

The truth of everything that had happened burned inside of me.

In the upper level of the apartment, a light suddenly switched on, and a figure moved beyond the window. My pulse raced a little faster. I'd been here enough times to know it was the right unit, but I didn't understand how Aizawa and the others had missed signs of Misa being around. I wished I knew more about what they'd found today.

 _I'm not supposed to be investigating this,_ I reminded myself, even as I moved toward the steps

 _I'm not investigating. I just happened to be going by when I noticed a light on, and I thought it would be smart to check on it. It'll save the others a lot of trouble._

Getting in the building was easy enough. I buzzed one of the neighbor's on Misa's floor and said I'd left my key inside, and they let me in without even asking questions. It probably didn't hurt that crime rates were so low, or that people were generally trusting.

 _That's how I got into the mess I'm in now,_ I told myself, getting onboard the elevator. _Being too trusting. I never would have believed Light was Kira._

Aizawa had believed it near the end, and Mogi had slowly started to agree with him as more and more happened; when I asked, Ide told me he thought it unlikely, but I had refused to even consider it. Maybe I hadn't really looked at the facts, or maybe I had wanted to trust Light. I had wanted to believe we were friends.

And when I learned the truth and couldn't ignore it anymore…that was more than I could stand.

The halls of the building were wide and clean, with fancy wallpaper, plush carpeting, and elegant light fixtures. Light made decent money as a detective, but I assumed it was Misa's paycheck as a pop idol that allowed them to live in such a nice place. Was that just part of the way he'd used her?

 _Can't think about that…_

I knocked on the apartment door, calling softly, "Misa-Misa?"

There was no answer. I crouched down to look under the door, where a crack of light shone through.

"Hello?" I turned the knob, sure I'd find it locked, but the door popped open, and I stood in the doorway, breath hitching, startled.

The place was a lot nicer than mine—bigger, roomier, with designer furniture, a professional decoration job, and a balcony. It smelled strange, though, and it appeared to be empty.

Gradually, I eased into the dimmed living room, where Light and Misa used to sit and watch television. Probably the news. Light had picked criminals to kill right there. He had probably even written their names down right in front of Misa. Did she know?

 _Why do I have to think of things like that? Why can't I picture them watching a romantic comedy instead?_

The place looked spotless, but as I passed the kitchen I smelled something suspiciously like rotten food. Maybe she hadn't been here for a while. Maybe she took a little vacation and just got back tonight. It made sense that she'd need some time to recuperate after her boyfriend was killed.

Guiltily, I remembered the look on her face when I told her Light didn't make it home, and I wasn't sure I could look her in the eyes now. I should leave, go call Mogi. He wouldn't get mad at me—he could help me figure this out.

But the light in the master bedroom was on, and I heard someone rustling around in there.

"Misa?" I called, padding that way. "Is that you?"

At once, the light went off suddenly, plunging me into absolute darkness, and my heart lurched into my throat.

 _What if it isn't Misa?_ I asked myself suddenly. _What it it's one of Misa's crazy fans? I'm unarmed…I don't have my phone even…_

I could be in danger.

 _Calm down. You're a cop._

Swallowing my uncertainty, I pushed the bedroom door open. "Misa?"

I heard a wooshing sound, and then something struck me square in the face, knocking me back against the wall. A girl's voice shouted, "Stay away!"

It wasn't Misa's voice. I had heard it before though. It took me a second to place it, and in the meantime, she smacked me again, screaming, "Out!"

"Sayu!" I blurted, shielding my face. "It's me!"

I could just make out her dark eyes and long hair in the orange light coming from outside. At first, she cocked back to hit me again, and I saw she was holding a heavy book, but she hesitated suddenly, and her jaw dropped in shock. "Matsuda-san? What are you doing here?"

Drawing a deep breath, I lowered my guard, half-expecting her to hit me again. Why shouldn't she after I'd shot her brother?

 _She doesn't know about that…_

Through the dark, we studied each other a moment, and then, finally, she lowered the book. "Are you looking for Misa?" she asked.

"Me? No. Absolutely not. I'm just…" I rubbed my stinging nose and tried to think of an excuse. I'd had so many just a minute ago. "Just…um… What are you doing here, Sayu-san?"

After a long, suspicious look, she flicked the light back on. "Nothing… I heard Misa was missing, so I came back to check…" she trailed off too.

With the light on, I saw her slender frame and beautiful face. Chocolate hair tumbled freely around her shoulders, but her eyes echoed her father's, reminding me he was dead. Twenty was really young to wind up fatherless.

I hadn't been much older when I'd lost my father, and I knew from experience how much it sucked to look at your life and suddenly find that unfixable hole there.

In her hands, what I'd mistaken for a book was actually a photograph framed in heavy pewter. It showed Misa and Light together, smiling. Happy.

For another awkward moment, Sayu and I looked at each other, trying to figure out what else to say, and then she stuttered, "Uh… Matsuda-san…your nose…"

Absently, I rubbed it, and my fingers came back bloody. "Oh."

"Here, I'll get you something." With a flourish of her dark hair, she laid the photo face down on the dresser and disappeared into the en suite bathroom, while I struggled not to drip blood on the carpet.

A moment later, she reappeared with a handful of toilet paper. "Here. Sit down." She pulled me over and made me sit on the bed, and I pressed the tissue to my nose, face starting to burn.

"Sorry I hit you. I thought…"

After she'd been kidnapped a few months ago, I was surprised to even see her out alone at night. Last I knew, she'd been in shock, incapable of responding to anyone or anything, and now here she was, out of nowhere, looking for a lost friend, hitting people with picture frames.

"It's okay," I told her. "I don't think it's broken."

Nodding, she lowered her head. So much of the light had gone out of her eyes, and she looked like a completely different girl than the one I remembered from those few months back; she'd been so lively and pretty then, flirting with me…

Remembering that day, I couldn't help blushing a little, but it brought back memories of the chief too, and of Light and Misa, and immediately my sadness and guilt crushed out any chance at having a cheerful memory.

When my nose had stopped bleeding, I said, "There. All better. Thanks so much."

She asked quietly, "You're really not here looking for Misa?"

Luckily, my bleeding nose had given me some time to get my bearings again. "No… I happened to be passing by. When I saw the light on, I thought I should check it out."

"I see." Even her voice was different now, bearing entire worlds of misery and gloom in it, like she could never laugh or smile again, not the way she'd laughed and smiled on the day I'd seen her at her parents' house. Maybe that Sayu was gone forever.

Why not? That Soichiro was gone, and that Light was gone. That Misa was gone. Even the Touta Matsuda who'd been there that day was gone, and I doubted I had any chance of recovering him from whatever dark place he'd crawled into.

"Are you out alone?" I asked after giving her a while to say more."

Deeply, Sayu sighed. "I guess…with Kira around…I'm not that worried about it."

Even if the fear of Kira was still keeping people safe, it was hard for me to believe Sayu had come here by herself after being kidnapped. I studied her a while, looking for some answer in her face.

Lowly, she admitted "I guess…since Dad and Light were killed…I don't really care…anymore…"

Icy fingers seized my heart, and I couldn't help blurting out, "C'mon, Sayu, don't talk that way. What about your mom? You're all she has in the world now."

She blinked, as if waking out of a dream, and slowly turned to meet my gaze.

"You have to be careful," I insisted.

"Yeah. You're right," she agreed, reluctantly. "Thanks for your concern." She got up from the bed. "In that case, I'd better get going."

I stood up too, tucking bloodied tissues into the pocket of my jacket. "Let me walk you home."

Sayu hesitated, frowning a bit. "Oh… No, I couldn't ask you to do that, Matsuda-san. I'm sure I'll be fine."

"It's no problem." The chief would be so disappointed in me if I let her walk home alone. "Let's go."

At last, Sayu nodded. "All right. It would be nice to have some company." She grabbed a backpack from the foot of the bed, and we left together.

Out on the street, I asked, "Did you just come from university?" Attending classes so soon after all the death in her family seemed strange—so did taking night courses—but it was the only explanation I could think of for the backpack she'd swung onto her shoulder.

Sayu didn't answer anyway, and we went several blocks in silence before she suddenly said, "It was strange being in their apartment, you know? Knowing Light is gone."

"Yeah," I murmured back. "I know."

Her voice took on a hard edge as she said, "I thought Kira only killed bad people."

So many people killed by Kira had been anything but bad—some of them had even been heroes, like L, and yet I felt like I had no right to say anything, not when I'd shot him myself.

"We don't have to talk about this," I told Sayu, wincing.

"I want to. Mom never talks about it. Everyone around me is so sorry, but it's nothing to them. Dad and Light, it's like they're off on a business trip, but…" Her voice choked. "I'll never see them again."

"I'm sorry," I whispered, stupidly, knowing the words couldn't cover everything I felt inside.

"I hate Kira," she spat with dark passion. "I hate Kira so much. He ruined my whole life. God, if I could join the NPA and hunt him down…"

"Kira's gone," I reminded her gently.

"Oh, sure. That's what they say." I'd never heard such a hard edge in Sayu Yagami's voice, but there was cynicism embedded in it now that would have broken Soichiro's heart. "After all the horrible things he did, it isn't fair for him to get off with an easy death!"

"There was nothing easy about the way Kira died," I told her suddenly, even though I knew immediately I shouldn't have.

She hesitated to look at me, eyes still hard with rage and shimmering with tears. She wiped her nose. "Tell me about it…"

What was there to tell? That awful scene played constantly in my mind. Sometimes, I realized parts of it were missing, parts where I'd zoned out, too shocked to deal with the things going on around me, but I always remembered the gunshots and the way he screamed and cursed at us. Those things were never quiet.

"No. I don't think I should."

"Come on," she insisted. "Please? I need to know he got what he deserved."

"Why?" I stopped suddenly. "No matter how much…" I barely stopped myself from saying Light's name. "Kira suffered when he died, it doesn't change the things he did."

"I know that," she said fiercely, glaring up at me. "I just want some reassurance that he's dead—you were there. Just tell me what happened."

I sighed, muttering, "We confronted him. One of our agents shot him. That's really all I can tell you, Sayu."

"He was shot? Where? How many times?"

The gunshots rattled off in my head, one after another. I shuddered. I'd never forget that. "Five."

"Where?"

"Sayu." I couldn't help frowning at her. "C'mon. I can't tell you any more about it."

Testing my resolve, she studied me, and then nodded and kept walking. "I'm glad he's dead. Gunshots though… That's too quick and painless if you ask me. If I could be alone in a room with Kira for even just a few minutes…" Her voice grew tight as she spoke through her teeth. "I'd make him sorry for messing with my family."

I stared at her. She'd always been so innocent, and yet, if Light had been Kira, maybe she had that same potential to turn dark for the sake of vengeance.

 _No_ , I corrected myself. _It's just part of the anger that comes with losing someone you loved._

I had to believe that. I couldn't go through life assuming everyone had the potential to be evil. For all we knew, even Light hadn't been evil—not from the beginning—the notebook must have warped his mind somehow. I really wanted to think that. It was easier to blame all this misfortune on a careless god of death than it was to think Light had always been an evil person.

I bit back a groan, but it became a barely audible gasp.

Sayu's hand touched mine. We stood together in the chilly night, looking out to the distant lights of the inner city, listening for voices not to be heard again. Sayu stared up into the sky. "Do you believe there's anything after death, Matsuda-san?"

I couldn't help following her gaze. "After death? Well… Yeah. I guess so. At least, I want to think there is."

"What about Kira?"

I lowered my eyes, choking again. "I…don't know. I guess Kira…would go to hell."

There was a brief moment of silence. Sayu murmured, "Good."

We walked the rest of the way in silence, and by the time the Yagami house came into view I felt exhausted. Most of the lights were on, but the place looked desolate, and I didn't know if I could stand to go in and face Sachiko in her grief. I wasn't sure I could even bear to say good night to Sayu.

"I heard you guys might be moving soon," I said as she led the way up to the door, just to break the silence.

"Mmhm. Mom can't afford the payments. Even if I get a job, I don't think I can help much." She added with a bitter laugh, "Soon, everything familiar will be gone."

She spoke with such despair, I wished I could help her somehow, but I was useless. My greatest accomplishment in life, my crowning achievement, was shooting Kira to keep him from killing Near. How great for me.

I stopped at the front gate, knowing once and for all I couldn't face Sachiko. "Well, tell your mom I said hi."

She nodded, wiping her eyes. "Thanks, Matsuda-san."

Nodding stupidly, I started to walk away. I didn't know how much longer I could be around her before I started crying too.

I only got a few steps before she called out, "Hey, Matsuda-san, wait. I have something to tell you."

I looked over my shoulder at her, puzzled. "What is it?"

"Actually," she inched toward me, looking nervous. "I have a question…"

"Okay, go ahead." I half wondered if she'd try to ask me more about Kira's death, and if she did, I had to stay firm. If I blurted details out to Sayu after Aizawa went through that whole interrogation, he'd never forgive me.

"I know you're a detective." She stopped a couple feet away from me, chewing her lip. "But you're a cop, right?"

I stared at her, not understanding the question.

"Well…that's dumb. Anyway, what I mean is, you've been trained to deal with people who might hurt themselves, haven't you?"

Instinctively, I looked her over, reassessing her condition with a more professional eye. Her hair was clean and brushed, her clothes looked neat, and I didn't see any outward signs of self-harm, depression, or suicidal tendencies. Next, I turned toward the house, wondering how badly Sachiko was dealing with recent events. When I saw her at Light's funeral, she'd been a complete mess.

Not that I'd been much better.

I felt Sayu's hand touch my wrist, and she said quietly, "It's okay. It's not either of us."

"I've never done anything like that," I told her, still studying the house, contemplating the lights on in the different rooms, trying to imagine how it might look if Sachiko were depressed or suicidal. Would Sayu even be out wandering the streets if that were the case? "But yes. I was trained for it."

"Good. In that case, I have something to tell you. The reason I was at Misa's apartment today is because Misa asked me to go there."

I whipped around to look at her again. "Wait. You know where Misa-Misa is?"

"Yeah." She nodded. "She's upstairs."

I gawked up at the house again. "Misa-Misa is here?"

"She showed up last week, asking us not to tell anyone. For a while, she kept going out and doing regular things, but she stopped a couple days ago."

"Why didn't you tell the police when you heard we were looking for her?"

Sayu's expression turned stern. "Misa's my family. She asked us not to say anything to anyone."

"Still. She's a missing person."

"That isn't the point. I'm trying to help her, but I'm worried. All she does lately is sleep. It's hard on Mom."

On her brightest days, Misa was demanding. Sachiko and Sayu shouldn't have to wait on a depressed pop star hand and foot.

"I thought maybe you could talk to her, since you are a cop. She might listen to you if she hears how worried everyone is."

I had my doubts. Misa had never respected me, but maybe she'd listen to Mogi, and, ideally, I could handle this without Aizawa realizing I'd been here at all. "Okay," I agreed. "I'll try."

Sayu gave me the first genuine smile I'd seen her make all night. Her eyes lit up and her cheeks glowed, and for a short second, she was the same girl I'd seen that day before she was kidnapped.

"Thank you, Matsuda-san!" She grabbed onto my arm like she might hug me, but stopped awkwardly, and then suddenly turned to lead the way inside.

The Yagami house looked about the way it always had, with only the faintest signs of neglect in the unswept hallway floor, but it was warm and inviting. As I took off my shoes, Sayu called out, "Mom! I'm home! I brought a friend."

"Friend?" Sachiko came around the corner.

I almost didn't recognize her she looked so old, face wrinkled, hair streaked with gray. Her eyes had a dead look to them, like nothing in the world was important now, and they were puffy from crying. Still, she smiled when she saw me.

"Oh, Matsuda-san! How have you been?"

"Fine," I lied. "How have you been, oba-san?"

"Ah, I'm all right." That was a lie too, of course, but we wouldn't be Japanese if we couldn't be polite under all circumstances. "It's good to see you—you look well."

That must be a lie too. If I looked any worse, Aizawa would probably try to have me hospitalized.

"I ran into Sayu and thought I'd walk her home," I said. "It's getting a little late."

"How thoughtful of you." She smiled at her daughter, a shattered expression.

"Actually, Mom," Sayu said, kicking off her boots. "He came to see Misa."

A wariness and an exhaustion entered Sachiko's expression. "Yes, she's up in Light's old room. Feel free to go and see her." She stood there a moment, adding, "I'll make you some tea."

"Thanks, Mom." Sayu slung the backpack over one shoulder and led the way upstairs, sweet voice laden with sympathy as she whispered, "We tried to convince her to sleep with me in my room, but I think she misses him more than anyone."

Not more than Sachiko, I thought, and then I felt stupid for how dramatic I'd been lately; it was just like Aizawa said—Light wasn't even related to me, and I needed to pull it together.

Face taking on a serious cast, Sayu paused. "Mom tells me she's been prepared for this, ever since she married Dad. She knew what she was getting into when she married a cop. But Light…" She shook her head, as if to get back on track. "Anyway, Misa isn't herself, Matsuda-san. She bursts into tears without warning, she hardly speaks. Sometimes she really scares me, talking about how she wishes she could have gone with him."

"That sounds really bad," I murmured. As I tried to remember what I'd learned about dealing with potentially suicidal people, I felt a lump form under my heart, and I wasn't sure I had what it took to make any difference at all.

"It can't hurt to try," Sayu said, like she'd read my mind.

There was still the option of calling Mogi. He'd be able to get through to Misa. In the meantime, I couldn't imagine denying Sayu anything.

We went to the room that had once been Light's, and I felt an overwhelming sense of grief. Grief lingered in this place too. Where there had once been laughter and love, only silence and heartache remained.

Sayu knocked at the door. "Misa? I'm back."

There was no answer.

"She must be sleeping."

"Should I come back later?" If I left, I could go get Mogi and we could come back here together to try and help Misa.

"No. It'll be dinner time soon anyway."

With that, she opened the door.

There was a split second of silence as our eyes adjusted to the darkness, and then Sayu screamed. She dropped the backpack on the floor, spun around, and buried her face in my chest.

Misa lay on the bed, eyes open, face white as the sheets, and the bedding was stained with dark blood. Her wrists had been slit, and bright crimson streaked and stained her slim arms. A kitchen knife jutted from her stomach, and her clothes were soaked.Across the room, someone had written sloppy, bloody kanji: KIRA LIVES.

Sayu started to bawl. Downstairs, Mrs. Yagami shouted her daughter's name, rushing to see what was wrong.

Half-screaming, I swung Sayu around and slammed the door behind us, leaning against it and panting.

"M-Misa…"

 **Aizawa**

Just past eight, my cell phone rang. I was at home, finishing dinner with my family, so I almost ignored it. Between my job and taking care of the kids, Eriko and I had been having enough problems finding time to be together, and it didn't help that I'd been distant, with the Kira case still haunting me, and the bad memories it generated always lurking in the back of my mind.

"Aren't you going to answer that?" my wife asked, giving me a serious look from across the table.

"I can call back later," I explained, scooping up another mouthful of take out.

She frowned. "It could be important, Shuichi. At least see who it is."

If I was going to be chief, I'd have to get used to having my personal time interrupted.

Suppressing a sigh, I excused myself from the table to answer the call. "Moshi-moshi?"

"Aizawa… It's me." It was Matsuda's voice, but lacked even a strained hint of its usual exuberance. My heart clenched.

"Matsuda. What's wrong?" He'd better be okay. I'd left him off the Misa case so he could get a little more RR, but I'd known it could just as easily push him further down the tunnel of depression. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah. I'm fine. I found Misa Amane."

After I told him not to get involved, those words seriously pissed me off, but I did have the presence of mind to keep from losing my temper with him right away. "What do you mean you found Amane?"

"She's dead."

"Dead?" My heartbeat paused. "Matsuda, where are you?"

"I'm at Soichiro's house. I just found Misa."

"She was _there_?"

He babbled in a half-asleep tone, like he wasn't thinking about the words as he spoke them, "Yeah. I ran into Sayu… Misa's here. She…she's dead… You're in charge, right? I thought you should know."

He made it sound like it was more a personal courtesy than a professional obligation to call me.

"Stay where you are," I told him. He was the kind of moron who'd wander away without thinking about it. "I'll be right there."

"Yeah."

"Is anyone else hurt? Did you call an ambulance?"

"Yep. I did. No. Nobody else is hurt. I called the ambulance."

"Good. I'm on my way."

"Okay."

I fought the urge to tell him something comforting, but I had no idea what it could possibly be. In the end, the words, "It's gonna be okay," just jumped out of my mouth.

"Right."

The call ended, and I was already grabbing my coat. Eriko watched me from the kitchen doorway, waiting.

"I've gotta go," I told her quietly, hoping she'd understand. "It's the case."

She nodded. "Well… I'll put your food in the fridge, in case you're hungry when you come home."

"Thanks, babe." I stepped over to kiss her forehead, and then turned to leave.

"Come home safe, Shuichi," she murmured, going back to the kitchen to finish dinner with the kids. I wished I could stay with them.

 _Duty calls._

As I headed to the Yagami house, I called my team, telling them to meet me there. Ide and Yoko were both on their way by the time we hung up, but Mogi told me he was already at the scene, and sure enough, when I pulled up behind the ambulance, I found him talking to Mrs. Yagami.

Bewildered, I caught his eye, but didn't interrupt, and instead turned to locate Matsuda, sitting on the front steps with Sayu bawling into his shirt. The medics rolled a gurney up into the house.

Mogi excused himself, and came over to me. An EMT draped Mrs. Yagami in a blanket, and she started crying. Matsuda pried away from Sayu to join us.

"She's dead." Mogi said, voice strangely cold. "Suicide."

"Yeah?" I glanced at Matsuda. His face was totally white, and his eyes were glassy. Despite my best efforts, he'd still wound up at the scene of Misa Amane's suicide. What the hell should I do with him?

He nodded. "Cut her wrists… And then stabbed herself."

Mogi agreed, "We'll have to talk to the medics about it, but I'd say Amane likely died from the stab wound in her abdomen."

"Any sign of a struggle?"

Matsuda shrugged. "No… No… I don't think so…"

"Mrs. Yagami was home all night," Mogi went on in that bizarrely calloused voice. "She didn't hear or see anything strange."

I faced Matsuda, not eager to question him. "How exactly did you find her?"

He blinked. "I told you. I ran into Sayu. She said Misa-Misa was here… She wanted me to talk to her. She said she was worried about Misa hurting herself. But…" He broke off and swept damp hair back from his face. "I was too late."

"Did she say anything about how long she's been here or how she's been acting? Had she been in contact with anyone else?"

"N-no… Well, maybe. I don't know. It was…weird to find her. I don't know."

I frowned and glanced at Sayu, where she and her mom sat huddled on the steps. Talking to them didn't seem fair just now either—they were hysterical.

 _Since when does it matter?_

Back in the day, Ide and I used to roll into a homicide site, blaze through, question everyone we saw with hardly a thought to their emotional condition, and then talk over the finer points of the case over a beer downtown.

 _So have I gotten old, or am I playing favorites again?_

"Captain," Mogi interrupted, voice twice as grave as before. "You have to see something."

I turned to him.

"The message," Matsuda whispered.

"Message?" I stared hard at him. "What message?"

Mogi attempted to clear it up for me. "Someone wrote on the wall in Amane's blood." It was too weird to hear him refer to her as Amane. Dammit, I should send them both home. Where was Ide when I needed him? With an almost imperceptibly shaking hand, Mogi pulled out his camera phone. "It's disturbing."

He held the phone up for me to see, and I studied it a long moment, not wanting to believe what I saw. "Kira lives…"

Matsuda started, in his sleep-talking way, "Does that mean that—"

"No," I interrupted firmly. "It's just nonsense." My heart was racing. If Misa wrote the message before she died, that was one thing. If someone killed her and wrote the message, that was another. I didn't even want to think Kira himself might be responsible, but he did have the power to make his victims write notes before they died.

"Could it be a murder?" Matsuda wondered, sounding like he was talking to himself. "I mean… Harakiri is a little…passé."

My stomach clenched. If I had found Misa earlier, would she be okay? I watched the medics roll her out on the gurney, zipped up in a body bag, wondering if something else could have been done.

"We can't rule out the possibility," I said quietly.

"The knife she used was a kitchen knife," Mogi warned, producing the blade in question, wrapped in an evidence bag but still coated in blood. He grimaced as he held it out. "I don't know yet if it's the one we found missing at her apartment today, but it looks like it. It's the only hard evidence we have."

"Did Misa-Misa mean to kill herself?" Matsuda murmured, like he was talking to himself.

I finally touched his shoulder, lowering my voice. "Hey, how'd you get here?"

"I was just walking…"

"Okay. Why don't I take you home?"

He didn't seem to hear me. "Aizawa…this wasn't Kira, right?"

"No, Matsuda, Kira is dead."

"Amane was distraught over Light," Mogi added. "It's understandable."

Understandable. Did that mean it was inevitable?

Ide and Yoko both arrived shortly after that. By all appearances, the disturbing message aside, this was an open and shut suicide case, and I felt that my priority was to look after my team, so I told Matsuda and Mogi they could both go. Insisting he was all right to drive, Mogi left right away. I tried not to worry about him. Past his stoicism, it was tough, always, to tell what exactly he was thinking, but I'd be an idiot to assume he wasn't upset.

As Matsuda and I were heading off, Yoko intercepted me, normally serious face shrouded with sympathy as she offered to take Matsuda home so I could stay here and investigate.

Reluctantly, I agreed, but I asked Matsuda if he wanted me to swing by on my way home.

"No," he said quietly. "Thanks. I'll be okay."

"Okay. But if you change your mind, let me know. And don't worry about work tomorrow."

"I'll be there," he said, walking toward Yoko's car.

I followed him halfway. "I'm saying you don't have to, Matsuda."

"Yeah, I don't think that's really up to you. I'll be there."

"I'll talk to Oshima. Given the circumstances, I'm sure he'll understand."

Matsuda looked questioningly at me. "Are you gonna make Mogi stay home too?"

It caught me off guard. It wasn't like him to question my decisions, let alone to infer that I might be making exceptions for him. I tried to tell myself that wasn't the case. He didn't see what I saw—he didn't understand how far gone he was—but if I didn't tell Mogi to take the day off, that would be making an exception.

"Maybe. Anyway, Mogi didn't _find_ her, Matsuda." Something else occurred to me suddenly. "How'd he get here so fast anyway?"

Matsuda sighed, looking away. "I called him first."

I stared hard at him. "Why?"

He shrugged. "Wasn't thinking clearly. I'll see you tomorrow, Aizawa."

Before I could say anything else, he climbed in the car, and Yoko drove him away.

I'd have to worry about that later.

For the next hour and a half, Ide and I scoured the Yagami house for evidence of intrusion or any sign of foul play.

"I dunno, Ide," I muttered, as we searched the bedroom, taking pictures and trying not to move anything. "Maybe we should have talked to Sayu and Sachiko today after all."

He paused in what he was doing to give me an analytical once-over. "You're not blaming yourself for this. Right?"

"No. But if we'd come here this afternoon, like we talked about, we would have found her before she had a chance to kill herself."

"We did what we _could_ , Aizawa."

"Yeah, but we didn't do _enough_ , and now that kid is dead…"

"Cut it out," he mumbled, going back to the investigation. "This isn't your fault."

"Isn't that what being in charge means? Everything is your fault."

He shook his head. "Two weeks off wasn't enough for any of us, was it?"

It was my turn to pause and look at him. "What's that have to do with anything?"

He snapped his nitrile gloves off and tucked them into his pocket. "It's just that I've never heard you blame yourself for something like this before."

Though it shouldn't be, this was different. This was someone I knew, a family I had interest in, practically the daughter-in-law of my deceased boss, the fiancée of a dead colleague.

 _I should never have been in charge of this investigation._

Did Oshima screw up, or was he screwing with me, hoping the pressure would be too much, and I'd fail, ruin my already blighted career?

Ide added, "You won't be very good at being in charge if you're going to blame yourself for everything that happens on an investigation."

"I'm not blaming myself. I'm saying maybe we made a mistake."

Fixing a serious look on me, he said, "Amane made the mistake, Shuichi. Not you and me."

I wanted to believe that. It was hard though, knowing a couple hours could have made the difference.

Next, we talked to Sachiko. She was calmer than Sayu, though she was obviously distraught as she explained how Misa showed up more than a week ago, afraid to be alone, she said. She admitted she hadn't spent much time with Misa, because Amane did nothing but mope and sleep, and it had been stressful to keep her there when she was trying to take care of her daughter.

"I never would have hurt her though," she told me tearfully.

"I would never think you could hurt her," I said immediately, though in truth, we would have to look into the possibility that either Sachiko or Sayu killed Misa Amane. I didn't expect that to bear any fruit, obviously.

I talked to Sayu after that. She told me between sobs about how happy she'd been at first to have Amane around, how it had given her someone to talk to, but how she'd realized shortly that Misa wasn't herself. She'd talked constantly about Light, joining Light in the afterworld, not being able to live without him, and suicide.

"I didn't know what to do," she cried. "She kept asking me not to get anyone else involved!"

"You did what you could," I reassured her. "What about tonight?"

Still crying, she related to us how Amane asked her to stop by her apartment and pick up some extra outfits, and how she'd gone without questioning it, though now she seemed sure Misa had sent her away because she intended to kill herself.

I was very interested to learn that she'd met Matsuda at Misa's apartment, and I couldn't help scowling.

"What exactly was Corporal Matsuda doing at Misa's apartment?"

Sayu blinked questioningly at me. "I…assumed he was investigating her disappearance. I mean, he let himself in…"

Ide and I exchanged long looks.

"He broke _in_ to her apartment?"

"I don't think he _broke_ in," Sayu explained, glancing between the two of us. "I probably left the door unlocked. Besides, when you're investigating a missing person's case, isn't it all right to break in?"

"That idiot!" I threw my notebook down in frustration. "That idiot wasn't investigating a missing person's case! He wasn't supposed to be there at all!"

"Let's stay on track," Ide suggested, bending down to get my notes and hand them back to me. "You can have a word with Corporal Matsuda later."

Sayu took the opportunity to change the subject and went on and on about how happy she'd been to run into Matsuda, because he'd been close with her father and brother, and because he was so kind, and because she thought he could help Misa, and so forth, like she was trying to make up for the fact that she'd blurted out that he'd met her somewhere he wasn't supposed to be.

That was the end of the story, and then there was nothing to do but go back to the station and file a report.

"I'll do that," Ide decided. "I'm sure Eriko is waiting up for you."

It was only ten o'clock though. Eriko probably wouldn't expect me for a while longer, so I agreed to let him file the report while I swung by Matsuda's apartment. I didn't know why I felt the need to go there right then, other than I wanted to get to the bottom of what he'd been doing at Misa's place and to make sure he was doing okay. Besides that, I had to admit I did feel guilty over Amane's death, and responsible. I wanted to be around my comrades—they understood that this was all fallout from the Kira case: from me being a candidate for chief when I doubted I was qualified, to Misa Amane killing herself in Light Yagami's old bedroom. Those were things I couldn't explain to Eriko. There were too many secrets I had to keep, even from her, but there were no secrets between the four of us.

 _Anyway_ , I thought as I knocked on Matsuda's door, _there shouldn't be._

He took his time answering, but I heard the TV on, so I knew he wasn't asleep.

When finally he opened it, he looked surprised to see me. "Oh, hey Aizawa… What's up?"

"Oh," I growled, "What? You're not expecting me? I would be if I were you."

"Yeah." He worked his fingers through the back of his hair as he stepped aside to let me in. "I didn't think you were serious about coming over here. What'd you find out anyway?"

"I guess I might as well tell you, right? Since you're up to your neck in a case I told you not to get involved in."

He slid his hands in his pockets. "It's over anyway, isn't it?"

I glared at him. He seemed calmer than he'd been outside the Yagami house, so I snorted, "No signs of an intruder, no signs of a struggle, no fingerprints, no footprints, no unidentified blood, no sign of forced entry. Looks like a suicide."

"And the message?"

"I don't know. She must have written it herself. Keep quiet about that—I don't want anybody leaking something like that to the press."

He thought about that a moment. "Think it could be used against us?"

" _Us?_ "

"Yeah, you know. The NPA."

"It has to do with Kira," I relented. He wasn't letting me bust his balls at all. "Anything that has to do with Kira could be used against _my_ investigation."

He nodded.

I crossed the room to stand face to face with him. "So now, why don't you tell me what the hell you were doing in Misa's apartment?"

This time, Matsuda looked like a deer caught in the headlights, and he stammered, "I…uh…was just…"

"What? Did you think I wouldn't find out?"

"No. But—"

"How can I trust you if you're going to lie to me and sneak around my back investigating things on your own?"

"Hang on a sec, Aizawa." He held up his hands. "Who said anything about investigating?"

"Sayu Yagami said you broke into Misa's apartment. She assumed you were investigating."

"I didn't break in. The door was unlocked."

"You were there!" I accused. "You just admitted it. What were you doing there, Matsuda?"

For a while, he stood back and studied my face, trying to determine what he could get away with telling me. At last, he said, "I happened to be walking by and I saw a light on in their apartment. I thought it could be Misa."

It had to be the most ridiculous excuse I'd ever heard come through his lips. "Let me get this straight. You just _happened_ to walk by Misa Amane's apartment just five hours after I explicitly told you that you are to, under no circumstances whatsoever, get involved with the investigation?"

Apparently out of shoddy excuses, he shrugged like that explained everything. "Yeah. More or less."

Frustrated to no end, I said, "Next time I tell you to stay away from something, you'd better make sure you don't wind up in the middle of it."

"All right, Aizawa. I'm sorry."

He didn't sound very sorry, but he was good at following orders, and I was surprised he went against what I'd told him earlier.

Sighing, I ran my hand back over my skull. What was I doing, yelling at him when he just saw Misa Amane dead in her own blood? I must be out of line twice as much as he was.

"It was stupid," he said.

"You're damn right it was." I slipped my hands into my pockets, feeling more foolish than ever. "Look, you're okay, right?"

Matsuda gave me a wary look, not convinced I was done snapping at him, I guessed, and then he sighed, "Yeah. I guess. I just wish I'd gotten there in time."

"That wasn't up to you." Again, I thought about what Ide had told me, and it made a little more sense now. Possibly, if Matsuda got to her just an hour earlier she'd be alive right now, but he couldn't control that.

Slowly, I touched his shoulder again. "I wanted to keep you off this case so you wouldn't have to go through this."

He nodded. "I appreciate that."

"Next time, it might work a little better if you actually listen to me."

"You're right. I'm sorry."

I patted his shoulder to show him we were okay. "Anyway, I better go. Eriko's waiting."

"All right, I'll see you tomorrow."

"Only if you really feel like it."

He nodded, showing me to the door. "See you tomorrow."

As I was leaving, I puzzled over what had prompted him to go rogue tonight. Simply following orders had always been one of his strong suits, and he had a tendency to follow anyone with charisma, so maybe it was simply a symptom of his depression and frustration. It could help him, I realized, if people put more faith in him. That could be all he needed right now—a chance to show us all that he really could do okay.

After all, he'd made some bold moves in the past, like infiltrating the Yotsuba building on his own, or shooting Light. He'd always been a touch unpredictable, but he had a stronger will than I realized. Even just appearing on TV to help capture Higuchi had been more bravery than I ever would have expected from him when we first met.

Now that Kira was gone, he had his chance to recuperate. For all I knew, in time, his unpredictability and random surges of courage would become a real asset to the NPA.

I decided that the next time I was in charge of an investigation, I'd put him on it.


	3. Chapter 3

**Yoko**

I drove Matsuda home from the scene of Misa Amane's suicide.

Quietly, he stared through the window, and I couldn't help thinking him handsome, young-looking and cute with his shaggy hair and his innocent eyes. His body, albeit it slender, was subtly muscular, but it was still hard to imagine what had made someone like Touta Matsuda want to join the NPA. Shortly before the Kira case ended, he'd gotten promoted to corporal, and I called that moving up the ladder slowly.

Then again, none of the members of the Kira task force had gotten much in the way of promotions over the course of their investigation, and, personally, I thought they all deserved a lot more credit than they were getting.

Vividly, I remembered the night the so-called task force walked back into the station, jackets slung over their shoulders, some of them spattered with blood, all of them looking haggard and tired as they reported that Kira was dead. They'd been almost like ghosts then, not really looking at us, standing together in a close knit group. I remember seeing Matsuda at the center of the group, and how horrified he'd looked then, pale and shaking, eyes glazed but also dark with fearful memories. The way the others stood around him, nudging at him occasionally, I'd gotten the distinct sense that all of them were trying to comfort him, even protect him. He was their weak link.

Since then, it was absurdly difficult to get close to them. At the station, they acted normal, but I could tell they didn't trust us the way they trusted each other, and I couldn't blame them for that when, for the last six years, they hadn't been able to trust anyone _but_ each other.

Aizawa and Ide, they were the tough ones, seasoned and used to having some command. When other officers came along, innocently asking questions about the Kira case, they were the ones to tell them to mind their own business, and even in that, Ide deferred to Aizawa. Everyone deferred to Aizawa, because he'd shout at you until you did.

I wondered how his superiors on the Kira case had dealt with him, because at the moment, he didn't show any sign of wanting to take orders from anybody, and even after being questioned, he still refused to explain anything about Kira, and he'd been emphatic about not letting any of the other three be questioned the way he had been. The fact that the director and commissioner had more or less let him have his way for now was only a testament to exactly how stubborn that man could be.

Since then, Ide had been ferociously watching his back, and I'd even seen him glaring at the Commissioner from across the room. Apparently, even if Aizawa didn't have time to be paranoid and suspicious, Ide had made that his priority, and I had to admit, it hadn't even crossed my mind to question either of them.

Kanzo Mogi was strong in a different way. In the same way Mt Fuji is strong, or the way the tallest tree in the forest is strong. Towering over his comrades, he watched everything, alert and ready. He didn't have much to say, but his words stayed on point and pertinent. I had worked with him on a case or two prior to Kira. At the time, we were both young, and we were the same type of investigator. Nothing got past Mogi, he noticed when something was off, and he stuck close as, unwavering back up. Presumably, if I went to him with my questions, he'd guess at my motivations.

That left Touta Matsuda. He was known for blurting things out that probably shouldn't be said, so I wouldn't be surprised if Aizawa was working strictly to make sure _he_ didn't get interrogated next. I wouldn't think he was stupid, but he was ostensibly careless, especially recently, arriving inexcusably late, physical appearance announcing how little he cared.

He was the best candidate for a delicate cross examination, and driving him home gave me the first real opportunity I'd gotten to speak to him alone, somewhere Aizawa wouldn't bite my head off or Ide wouldn't brusquely send me away, somewhere Mogi couldn't see. He was vulnerable, and I tried not to feel bad about it. After all, I had a job to do.

Aizawa's supposedly official report had been pitiful; without revealing Kira's identity or power, it stated that Light had been killed by Kira and that _someone_ had shot Kira after that. No one had seen the body, and he had refused to disclose who exactly had done the shooting, so the popular theory around the station was that Aizawa himself had shot Kira, but it could very well have been one of L's subordinates.

Strange. Without L, they were like students on a field trip without a teacher, trying to hold things together, trying to keep secrets from the world.

"How well did you know Amane-san?" I asked when we'd been driving a while.

Matsuda shrugged, leaning heavily on his fist. "All right, I guess. I was her bodyguard for a while."

Originally, I'd assumed he was infatuated with her, as most men seemed to be, but if he'd spent that kind of time with her, he definitely had cause to be upset over her death.

Digging now in the mud of his pain made me feel guilty all over again.

"I saw her a lot while she was dating Light," he added.

It was no secret Matsuda had been comparatively close that family, always following Chief Yagami around, sometimes visiting their house. More cynical colleagues had laughed that the rookie was simply following the shadow of an NPA legend, hoping to pick up whatever scraps he might happen to drop, but I'd seen it plenty of times in Matsuda's eyes just how much he'd admired Soichiro Yagami.

"It's a shame about Light," I said. "He was so young."

Matsuda stayed in exactly the same attitude as he mumbled, "Yeah."

"And now Amane's taken her own life… She must have really loved him. After all, she had a bright future as a pop star, didn't she? It seems strange."

Matsuda sat up a little, and I knew I'd gotten his attention. "You mean you think she was killed?"

I shrugged. "Love is love. But we only have one life to live."

For a long time, he was quiet, and then his voice betrayed disturbance. "Why would anyone want to murder Misa?"

"I have no idea, but if someone murdered her and then wrote in her blood, I'd say they must have been pretty unstable." I had to turn us away from this topic. It wasn't important. "Obviously, I don't know for sure, but I think we should try not to jump to conclusions. Aizawa is good at jumping to conclusions, isn't he?"

I could see Aizawa shooting Kira. Mogi was too calm, and everyone who'd known Ide and Aizawa a long time both agreed Ide was less likely to jump the gun. Suggesting Matsuda could have done it was laughable. Most NPA officers considered him to be a joke, riding L's coattails in hopes of landing on easy street.

Light Yagami had died fighting Kira, so he could have died _killing_ Kira. But again, as smart as Yagami had been, he hadn't been a detective for very long before getting killed, and Aizawa would have had the experience with a fire arm to outdo him.

Matsuda didn't bite anyway.

"In any case, she would have had to have loved Light a _lot_ to kill herself, wouldn't she?"

"She did," Matsuda answered, turning away again. "Way, way too much." His voice was soft as falling snow.

Surprised, I looked at him. "Why do you say that?"

He just shook his head, refusing to explain those odd words.

Could Light have been Kira after all? I'd thought it before. In fact, I'd thought it when I first saw the task force return. They all seemed so broken—it went beyond losing a comrade—there was more to it than a simple murder.

After all, he fit the profile, but if he was Kira, wouldn't his mother and sister know about it?

"That little Sayu Yagami is pretty cute," I said.

Matsuda looked at me from the corner of his eye. "I guess."

"How is she taking her brother's death?"

"The way you'd expect." He shrugged.

"I can't imagine losing my brother."

He didn't answer that at all. He _was_ torn up by Light. Because he'd died in front of him? Or because he'd been Kira?

"There is one thing I find strange, Matsuda-san," I said, going in for the kill. I might as well, since the others weren't there to watch his back.

Still, when he looked at me, his eyes were veiled with caution. "What's that?"

"I find it fascinating that the day Light Yagami died is also the day Kira stopped killing."

There, I'd said it. I'd gotten right to the heart of the matter, and I'd worded it in a way that would come across as accusatory. There was nothing else but to gage his reaction.

The reaction itself was startling. In fact, it was shocking. Some indignation I expected, yes, but he suddenly turned to face me full on, slamming one fist on the dash, and shouted, "What do you think you're saying? You're trying to tell me you think _Light_ was Kira?"

I recovered from the surprise quickly, knowing I had to keep ahead. "I was just suggesting—"

"Well, don't! Light _died_ trying to bring Kira to justice!"

I stayed politely quiet, pretending to be subdued while I considered his response. Had I truly made him angry, or was he trying to hide the truth by feigning outrage? It could be an act. Not that it mattered at the moment. He'd told me what I needed to know for now.

"I apologize," I said after an appropriate amount of time.

Again, he faced the window, and his voice shuddered. "They died on the same day. That doesn't mean they were the same person." I detected more in his voice than anger now. There was a possibility of grief. Again, I felt bad for picking at his wounds.

"Is this your apartment here?"

"Yes."

This had taken the perfect amount of time.

I pulled over, and he got out with a cloudy, "Thanks," and started to march away, movements stiff. Unlike the other three, he acted on emotion, and in time, if I worked at it, I felt sure I'd be able to get him to tell me everything I needed to know.

 **Matsuda**

What little Yoko said was enough to make me worry. By the time Aizawa dropped by my house, I seriously considered telling him about it, but he had enough to think about, and I didn't want to get him all riled up, so I left it out of our conversation.

All night, my mind alternated between her words and the image of Misa's mutilated body, and in a while I just got up again and sat on my couch with the TV going.

Soon the media would announce her death—just another story to them—another loss of someone I had cared for. It made me feel like my whole life was falling apart under my feet.

And Yoko had a valid point—Misa loved Light, but had she loved him even more than life itself?

Who would want to kill her? What about the message left on the wall of her bedroom? Aizawa made the case sound like it had definitely been a suicide, but he'd been stressed lately, and he did have a tendency to jump to conclusions.

Then again, if someone had killed Misa, there would be evidence.

Meanwhile, Yoko suspected Light of being Kira, and we had all agreed that we wanted to keep that information to ourselves for as long as possible, not wanting to drag the remainder of his family into the public eye.

I should have found more out about what she thought; it seemed like she'd just been pushing my buttons on purpose, but maybe if I'd kept my head, I could have deciphered her motives.

I wracked my mind to think of anything I knew about her. She was a little bit older than me, and she'd been on the department already when I joined. According to rumors, she was an excellent detective, but she kept to herself. When the Kira investigation started, she _had_ originally been part of it, but she'd gotten out when things became too difficult. I couldn't hold that against her—not many of us had wanted to stay on that case—that didn't mean she was untrustworthy.

Mogi knew her a little. I decided to talk to him about it before bringing it up with anyone else.

When I remembered the way Mogi acted at the scene, I wasn't sure I should tell him either. He looked at Misa's body so strangely, eyes bulging, mouth falling open, making unintelligible sounds, like he couldn't believe what he saw. He hadn't run away though. He'd gone in and knelt beside her, examining the body without touching it, slipping his gloves on and collecting the knife before anyone else could tamper with it as he'd told me to call Aizawa. Past his calm face, though, I'd seen how deep the blow had struck him.

For now, it seemed like it might be best to keep the conversation with Yoko to myself.

As I finally started drifting off to sleep, I thought about Sayu. She _was_ cute, but she was so broken now, and I felt bad about that. The way she'd cried on my shoulder made me want to help her.

In the morning, I woke up on time, only to discover I had a different problem. Last night, I'd left my uniform in the washing machine, and the episode with Misa's death had made me forget about it completely.

Sighing, I loaded it into the dryer and went to find something else to wear, but it was getting harder and harder to come up with clothes appropriate for work.

My nearly sleepless night hadn't helped the dark circles under my eyes at all, but I took a shower and ate some breakfast, hoping that might make up for it. At least I didn't look like a wreck.

Aizawa shouldn't have anything to say to me other than "good morning," and "here are the papers I want you to file today."

The thought was meant to be funny, but as soon as I'd had it I felt sour and frustrated all over again.

It didn't matter though. When I got to work, what Aizawa actually said was, "What are you doing here?"

I shrugged. "I still work here, don't I?"

"Didn't you get my message?"

"No. I was trying to get here on time."

He raised his eyebrow ever so slightly, but his voice stayed kind. "I called to tell you to stay home; it's a slow day, and we won't…" he paused and amended with, "there won't be much for you to do."

Even though he was obviously trying really hard to be nice, I felt insulted. "Did you become chief without my noticing? Because you're acting like you run the department already."

A glare shadowed his face.

I wound up adding, "At least, you act like you run _me_."

Shouldn't have said that. His whole face contorted into badly-concealed annoyance. "For your information, smart ass, the commissioner told me to call you and Mogi off today because of that mess with Amane. Sorry you don't like it, but there _is_ no chief right now, and I am getting stuck with some of the chief's duties. Now go home."

I felt guilty for snapping at him, but I still didn't want to be sent away. "I'm sorry, Aizawa. Still, I'm here. There must be something you can find for me to do."

"Believe it or not, I _don't_ run you, so that isn't my responsibility. Besides, you don't listen to me anyway."

"I'm sorry," I repeated.

"There's nothing I can do," he grumbled. "Just be glad you've got the day off."

Maybe he was right. I remembered the dark circles under my eyes and knew I could use more rest.

"All right," I agreed. "Just one question, and then I'll go."

Loudly, he tapped his pen against the desk. "Fine. What?"

"Are you going to look into the possibility that Misa-Misa was murdered?"

His expression flickered with sight confusion. "There's no sign that she was."

I nodded. "Okay." No point in pushing him. I turned to leave.

Aizawa sat up at his desk and turned also. "Hey! Wait a sec. Do you have some reason to think she _was_ murdered?"

Again, I thought about telling him what Yoko had mentioned last night, but that was no substantial ground for investigating a murder.

"What about that message?" I stepped back toward him so people wouldn't overhear us. "Why would she write that?"

"The same reason she killed herself, I guess," he whispered, glancing around, nervously. "Light's dead."

"Exactly. _Kira_ is dead."

Even though no one was paying attention to us, Aizawa put a finger to his lips. "Shh! Look, it's weird, I can't deny that, but nobody who went into that room saw any sign that she was killed. There's just nothing for me to use, Matsuda." For some reason then, he added, "I'm sorry."

Yoko's hunch was no reason to keep investigating a dead end. Of course, the _other_ hunch she had was right.

After a moment of studying me, Aizawa said, "Go home, Matsuda. You look like hell."

Getting paid to sleep _did_ sound nice. Even though I was afraid of what dreams might come to me while I was at it, I decided I would do my best to rest—eat, sleep, drink beer, and watch TV.

On my way out of the building, I ran into Ide, nearly bumping into him. "Hey, Taniki-tan," I muttered half-heartedly, brushing past him.

"So," he said, in his dead serious way. "The boss sent you home?"

"Sure seems like he _is_ the boss these days," I grumbled hesitating to look back at him.

"They're making sure he's got the stomach for it first."

He leaned back against the wall of the building, and I stood there with him a moment, trying to enjoy the sunshine and the breeze as the first part of a relaxing day. "Did you just get here?" I asked.

"Nah." He lit a cigarette. "Aizawa sent me to have a little chat with Misa Amane's manager."

I gave him a puzzled look, and Ide smirked a little. "Funny, right?"

"Why did he do that?"

Puffing his cigarette, Ide shrugged. "It was a strange death. Aizawa wanted me to make sure her manager didn't notice anything suspicious, like someone following her."

I waited for him to continue, but he just smoked quietly. In a moment, I lost patience. "Well?"

Still, Ide just looked at me, with no intention of saying anything.

"C'mon, Ide, this is getting ridiculous, you guys keeping me out of the loop like this."

"Yeah, well maybe you shouldn't have been investigating by yourself last night."

"I wasn't!"

He gave me that knowing smirk again, but said, "Doesn't matter. I didn't find anything. Amane killed herself. I really think that's all there is to it."

"I see." I stared at the ground, going through what Yoko had said again, but possibly I was just reading too much into it.

We stood there a while longer, and Ide finished his cigarette and stomped it out. "So what's up? You're not convinced?"

"It's probably nothing," I told him, but he didn't seemed stressed out like Aizawa, or distraught like Mogi, and I realized I could probably talk to him a little about what Yoko had said. "Just…between you and me, what would happen if people found out about Light…? You know…"

He arched an eyebrow. "We talked about this, Matsuda. There are a million crazies out there who'd want to turn his grave into a shrine, and a million others who'd want to defile it. That's why Aizawa went through that hell of an interrogation."

I winced at the memory. I hadn't been here, but Ide had kept me informed, mostly through texts, and I'd worried the whole time that he wouldn't be able to hold up; by the third day I'd thought they'd never let him go. If they'd interrogated _me_ like that, I'd have snapped, and as far as I knew, Aizawa had kept that from happening by insisting I was too traumatized to be endlessly questioned. As much as I hated that weakness in me, he was right.

Finally, I said, "Yeah, but don't you think some people have already figured it out?"

Grimly, Ide agreed. "We can't hide the truth forever."

I nodded.

"That would be hard on what's left of his family."

Sayu crossed my mind again.

"Don't worry about it," he advised. "It isn't something we can actively prevent, it's just something to be wary of."

"So if someone asks us questions about Light, what do you think that person could be after?"

Ide gaped at me. "Who's asking questions about Light?"

Before I could decide on what to tell him, his phone went off, and he answered it reluctantly. "Yes? I'm downstairs. I just got back." There was a long pause as Ide listened, and then his face twisted in mild horror. "I'll be right up." He ended the call abruptly and looked at me again. "Several NPA officers have been found dead."

"What? Who?"

Ide threw the door open effortlessly. "Let's go find out."

Upstairs, chaos had taken hold of the department; people ran through the halls, screaming, "It's Kira!" Papers flew everywhere, as if everyone had taken whatever they'd been working on and thrown it into the air in a panic.

Several times I almost got swept up in their movement, and I had to elbow my way through the mob.

"What's going on?" I shouted, but no one paused to explain anything. "This is crazy!"

Next to me, Ide said dryly, "It's nice to see this place lively again, though, isn't it?"

Aizawa appeared out of the tumult, looking more agitated and stressed than ever. "Apparently five NPA officers were found dead at the Shinjuku Prince Hotel. Gunshots were reported."

" _Gunshots_?" Ide gawked at him. "Was it the yakuza then?"

"It's not really like them…" Aizawa's brow furrowed.

Japan had been more peaceful than ever over the last six years, and it was hard to imagine even the yakuza risking the consequences of shooting and killing police officers.

"Who are they?" I demanded. "The officers."

He shook his head. "I don't know yet. That's not the worst part though."

I wasn't sure I was ready to hear the worst part, but he led the way into the break room, where the news was already on, and a group of officers had gathered to watch, wide-eye and muttering to each other. I noticed Yoko with them, pale eyes fixed on the TV.

The screen showed a shot of the Shinjuku Prince Hotel with a crowd of onlookers and local police cruisers gathered around the front.

The female reporter said, "It has now been confirmed: five casualties in total, all of them officers of the NPA."

A loud murmur went through the break room, and more officers burst in, asking questions in loud voices. They were shushed immediately.

"As you can see," the reporter went on, pretty eyes with badly-concealed excitement. "There has been a message left here, possibly by the perpetrator."

The camera angle changed, pointing almost straight up to give us a clear shot of the side of the building, where someone had painted in huge, red kanji, KIRA LIVES.

I gasped. "Just like—"

Aizawa pinched me, and I cut off with a yelp.

"We cannot fully understand the message of course," the reporter explained, "but from where I'm standing, it appears Lord Kira is indeed alive, and his justice is going to prevail."

"Well," Ide decided. "That more or less rules out the yakuza."

"Where's Mogi?" I wondered faintly

"I told him to stay home," Aizawa reminded me in a pale voice.

"I'll call him," Ide announced.

I couldn't think of any reason for Mogi to be in Shinjuku, but all the same, there was no way I could deal with losing even one more person I was close to. Not just now.

"Who's in charge?" I wondered.

Aizawa watched more officers flood past the door, running for their lives. "No one. This place is out of control." His phone rang, and he answered it snappily.

Someone grabbed my arm, and then his, trying to drag us away. "We've got to get out of here!" he screamed. "Everyone, follow me!"

Aizawa shoved him away roughly, "Jonsu, knock it off. I'm talking to my wife for God's sake."

Ide got off the phone. "Mogi says hello," he told me, struggling to get a cigarette going.

"I'm glad he's okay…" I murmured, just as my phone went off next. I didn't recognize the number, but for all I knew it was a member of my family, so I answered.

"Moshi-moshi?"

Sayu's voice said, "Matsuda-san! I was watching the news and saw some officers were killed. I wanted to make sure it's not you guys."

I glanced at Ide, who was giving me a questioning look. Aizawa had turned his back to us to talk with Eriko.

"We're all fine," I told Sayu. "We don't know yet who was killed."

"I'm glad! That message though. It's the same as the one on Misa's wall last night… What do you think it means?"

"I'm not sure…" I was worried to think of what it _could_ mean.

"Kira's dead. Isn't he?"

Shutting out the image of Light's bloodied corpse, I tried to sound confident. "Yes. Yes, I saw him die."

"But then why—"

Aizawa had just hung up, so I said quickly, "Thanks for calling to check on us, but I can't talk right now. I'm sorry."

"Oh… Oh, right. Of course. I'm sorry—you're at work. I was just worried…"

I smiled a little. "Thank you. I'll save your number and let you know what I can."

"Thank you, Matsuda-san."

I ended the call just as Aizawa started talking. "Let's go find somewhere quiet to wait for Oshima."

"The commissioner just ran out of here," Yoko announced.

"He _left_?" Aizawa stared at her. "Why?"

Ide sneered, "C'mon, Shuichi, you know how most of the NPA is when it comes to anything having to do with Kira."

"This isn't Kira!" Aizawa shouted loud enough for everyone in the building to hear. "Kira is dead!"

"A lot of people don't believe Kira is dead," Yoko told him.

"He is though! We _saw_ him die!"

"All right," Ide said to him. "Let's keep our heads. Screaming about Kira being dead doesn't solve anything."

"I can't hear myself think," Aizawa growled. "I'm going somewhere quiet, whether Oshima shows up or not." With that, he started off at a brisk pace, out of the break room and into the hall, pushing through the crowd and shouting arbitrarily for people to calm down, even calling some of them by name in particular and telling them to shut up. The three of us followed him quietly, like in a strange parade.

As we went, Aizawa breaking up the riot with his annoyance and cold determination to simply get somewhere peaceful, people started to follow us, and we made our way into Conference Room 3. By then the only sound I heard was coffee sizzling, and almost twenty people trailed us.

"Shut the door," Aizawa ordered, and Ide obeyed. "We're gonna wait here until this blows over. Hopefully by then the commissioner will be back."

"What if he never comes back?" I pulled myself up onto the table.

"Then we'll put someone else in charge temporarily until we figure out what's going on."

"But how're we gonna—"

A young officer I didn't know spoke up from the back of the room, "This can't really be Kira can it?"

"No." Aizwa rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Absolutely not."

"How can you be sure," someone else demanded. I didn't know him either. In fact, as I looked across the room, I realized we were surrounded by people I didn't know.

"We were there when Kira died," Ide explained calmly.

"Can you prove that?" A few other voices chimed in, demanding proof.

I looked at Ide, and then at Aizawa, planning to follow their lead, no matter what they said.

"How can we prove something like _that_?" Ide asked. "The body was cremated a whole month ago."

"Let us see the bones!" one of them cried.

"What?" Aizawa wrinkled his nose. "You can't be serious, Raoki."

"I am serious," Raoki insisted. I did remember him from early in the Kira case, for his bad attitude and how quickly he'd gotten out of it when things got rough. "How else are we supposed to believe he's actually dead?"

A lot of other people started yelling at once, most of them agreeing with Raoki, saying that the only way to resolve this was to produce Kira's remains. A few of them argued, but they were all moving in closer to us, some looking violent.

"The news report said there were gunshots!" I shouted suddenly, sliding off the table.

The room quieted some, and people gawked at me, like they hadn't even expected me to speak.

I charged ahead, "Kira has never killed that way before—it can't be him!"

Everyone stared at me. Even Aizawa and Ide looked surprised, but it gave them a chance to take control again, and Aizawa had made his way to the front of the room to command everyone's attention. "We've lost a lot of manpower in this riot. I can barely believe that's all it took, but anyway… There _have_ been multiple Kira's in the past, but chances are this is a fanatic who's going crazy over the fact that Kira hasn't made a move in a while, someone who doesn't want to believe he's dead."

A seasoned captain named Okoshi said firmly, "Aizawa is right. This can't be Kira; Kira only kills people he sees as evil."

But Yoko argued, "In my mind, that only proves this is Kira."

Startled, I turned to her. "Why?"

"If the story you four are telling is true, one of you must have killed Kira."

I had to try very hard not to look over at Aizawa and Ide.

"Maybe," Yoko went on, "even if Kira is dead, there's a possibility of there being another one who might want to avenge the original. For all we know, they were lovers."

It was so close to the truth, I barely kept myself from gasping out loud. It was calculated and intelligent, a concise conclusion to arrive at, and the other officers murmured about it.

Luckily, Aizawa spoke up again. "Theories don't matter now. We're wasting time."

"I agree," old Okoshi said again, stroking his long, gray mustache. "The crime is in our jurisdiction; we should form a team."

"We can't do that without the commissioner's okay," Raoki objected, and a few of the others agreed.

"What if the commissioner doesn't _come_ back?" Ide sneered, stifling the air with his smoke. "We can't waste time waiting for him."

That only got more outraged shouts from the others. "You two have gotten so arrogant!" Lieutenant Ryo accused.

"They've _always_ been arrogant," Raoki corrected, glaring resentfully at Aizawa.

"You're welcome to do what you want, Raoki," Aizawa said coldly.

Ide scoffed, "We really _don't_ have time to waste."

"Anyone who wants to stay out of this, leave now."

For a moment, there was more mumbling and some shuffling of feet, and then, one by one, people began to clear the room.

 **Ide**

In the end, only three people of the fifteen who'd followed us stayed. Captain Okoshi Inari was one of them. He'd worked with Soichiro Yagami when they were younger, so that wasn't much of a surprise. Then there was Izanagi Chiba, who was just a little older than me or Aizawa but couldn't seem to get promoted from lieutenant to captain, likely due to a nervous disposition and a reluctance to take risks. Seeing him volunteer to investigate a firearms case might mean he was trying to change that. Kei Komagata was there too. She'd just joined the NPA, and she was rumored to be half-American. With her blonde hair and blue eyes, she looked the western part.

Yoko had stayed also, looking completely relaxed, in spite of the things she'd said earlier.

"That's it?" Matsuda asked, sounding disappointed. "What a bunch of cowards."

Okoshi stood up and bowed. "For my part, I admire the courage of Soichiro and the men who joined him in the Kira case. Since his death, I've regretted that I didn't help as well. I would be honored to work alongside you all."

"It's not Kira though," Chiba pointed out, shakily. "Right? As long as it's not Kira, I don't see any reason to hide."

"I guess that's an acceptable attitude," Aizawa muttered to me, and I had to bite back a laugh.

Kei spoke last, snapping gum in her mouth. "Right! Just some normal cop-killer. Cop-killers die, that's my motto."

Interested, I looked at her. She was young, in her mid-twenties, and beautiful, somewhat tall for a woman, but slender, with toned arms. "Some motto. What's that, an American thing?"

Laughing, she propped her feet up on the table. She wore black cowboy boots instead of regulation shoes. "I dunno, it's just how I feel. It pisses me off when people try and kill the cops."

"Talks like a man," Aizawa grumbled. "Maybe she fights like one."

Again, it was hard not to laugh. "Terrible Japanese," I said under my breath. "Interesting, if nothing else."

With a snort, he stood up. "When Commissioner Oshima comes back, he'll probably organize a new investigation anyway, but I don't think it'll be hard to catch whoever did this; killing NPA officers in broad daylight, leaving a huge message on the side of the building—the perp's obviously crazy."

As I watched him pace from one end of the table to the other, I wondered if he was in any condition to run a case right now. Normally, I knew it wouldn't daunt him in the least, but between the interrogation and the strange things he'd said to me last night at Amane's suicide, I just wasn't sure he had the capacity for it.

There weren't many options though, and it looked like he was ready to step up, so I told myself it would be okay just so long as I was there to watch his back.

The whole ordeal with Light had been shocking—I'd gone back and forth between feeling foolish for not believing he was Kira and thinking I'd done my duty in the case, following orders, unable to decide where I stood now. Unlike Matsuda, I _had_ seen the evidence, and I had known it was _possible_ for him to be Kira, but I'd never been decisive like Aizawa, Mogi, and Matsuda. In the end, I just hadn't been able to make up my mind what to believe.

Uncovering the truth had been a tidal wave for me, something I couldn't take back, something I didn't want to face. When I thought about the horrible things Light had done behind our backs—like murdering Takada simply because he'd finished with her and getting his own father killed by sending him into an unsafe situation simply to further his agenda—I knew I'd made the wrong the decision, and I wished I'd done more.

What could I have done, though? I'd listened to Near's confidence and Aizawa's reasons, I'd listened to Light plead innocence, I'd listened to Matsuda, insisting on a daily basis, right until the end, that he was outraged that anyone could believe something so terrible. I'd listened to the Deputy Director on his death bed, confirming that Light couldn't be Kira. In the end, weighing factors as I always did had turned out to be inconclusive, and that was a shame I had to live with forever.

All the same, compared to the others, I felt relatively composed. My job and my life had changed, but I'd done a good job staying professional and level headed. That was what Aizawa—and the other two—needed from me.

Finishing my cigarette, I tuned back into the conversation.

Aizawa was saying, "Captain Okoshi, you're the logical choice."

Okoshi did have more experience than the rest of us, but Matsuda and Mogi and I weren't going to follow anyone but Aizawa, not when we weren't sure who we could trust.

Anyway, I didn't have to say anything about it, because Okoshi argued right away. "I'm flattered, Captain, but it seems to me that _you're_ the best option. You obviously have the admiration of your colleagues." He gestured to Matsuda and me. "You have this situation more or less under control, and I would be happy to follow your orders."

Aizawa looked startled, but I was quick to jump in. "I second that."

He just nodded at me, unsurprised to have my vote of confidence. Similarly, he didn't seem surprised when Matsuda echoed me.

"You _are_ supposed to be the next chief," Chiba agreed, with a somewhat wan smile.

"You have my vote, Captain," Kei called, waving her hand at him. "The way you plowed through the crowd outside definitely got _my_ attention."

Yoko said, "It's unanimous."

"Well," Aizawa said slowly. "For now, I'm willing to do it, but that means we're doing things my way, and if anyone doesn't like that, you'd better leave now."

How like him, driving away potential help just so he could do things his way. I snorted a vague laugh. "Don't worry about that, Shuichi. Now." I got up. "What about Mogi? He's the only one who might not want you." I said the words in a teasing tone, but I meant it. Calm and collected Mogi, out of all of us, was most dissimilar with Aizawa's investigative style, but outside of that, he apparently wasn't interested in being part of the NPA at all anymore.

Forehead ribbing, Aizawa murmured, "Mogi can do whatever he wants. We need to move—Ide, you, Yoko, Okoshi, and I will go investigate at the hotel."

Matsuda's face dropped. "You're leaving me here?"

"You have to wait for Mogi and explain the situation. Kei, compile a list of who's left around here. Figure out who's where as best you can. I _would_ like to know which precinct the victims came from, if you can, but I don't imagine we'll figure that out until we have their names."

Kei nodded. "Got it."

"Chiba, try to get a hold of Oshima. Tell him to call me as soon as he can. Matsuda, hey, I need you to get the Kira file out of records for me while I'm gone."

Matsuda frowned. "The whole thing? It's _huge_."

"Yeah, thanks, I know that. But if we are dealing with another Kira, we'll need to start going through it right away, along with the file on Misa's disappearance and death. In case we missed something."

Brow slanting in obvious annoyance, Matsuda stared up at him. Antsy and energetic, he'd never been good with records and reports, and sticking him with a bunch of desk work to do normally resulted in his getting up, restlessly, every thirty minutes or so, to grab a snack or get more coffee or simply to float around the room, from station to station, pestering the rest of the team until someone lost patience with him and sent him back to work.

The wrinkles between Aizawa's eyebrows deepened as he prompted, "Got a problem with that, Corporal?"

"No," Matsuda sighed. "Right. Okay, Chief."

"And don't call me that. I'm your captain, not the chief."

The others set to their tasks and the rest of us headed out. As Aizawa and I clipped through the hallway, a step ahead of Okoshi and Yoko, he spoke lowly to me. "At some point, I want you to try and get a hold of L. Make sure he still has the notebook."

I nodded, knowing better than to discuss the death note in great detail while other people were around. After all, it went without saying that if Near had lost track of it, we'd be in a hell of a lot of trouble.

When we reached the Shinjuku Prince Hotel, the site was cordoned off, and the hotel guests were on lock down. The officers who'd arrived first stood around their cruisers, talking, but they stopped when they saw us.

Aizawa flashed his badge. "Captain Aizawa, Criminal Investigation Bureau. This is Captain Okoshi, Lieutenant Ide, and Sergeant Yoko. We're here to investigate the scene."

"About time," one of them said. He looked younger than Matsuda even, and he had a jeering tone I didn't like. "What took you guys so long?"

"Oh, sorry," I shot back. "Did we keep you from having coffee and donuts?"

The kid frowned at me, but I jerked my thumb at Aizawa.

"As long as we're on the scene, this is your superior. Show him some respect."

Aizawa ignored the young officer and looked at his partner instead. "Sorry for the delay."

The older officer nodded. "We're glad you're here, Captain. The scene is up in room 1020—the bodies have been removed already and forensic investigators are at work; they'll give you whatever information you need."

"Witnesses?"

"A few civilians who were staying on that floor, and one maid. For now, they're being detained, so I'll arrange for you to speak with them as quickly as possible."

"I'd like to speak with the hotel manager and the desk clerk who checked the victims in as well."

"Of course, sir."

Aizawa ducked under the tape, and we followed him.

As soon as we got on the elevator, Yoko spoke up. "Why would those officers be here in the first place? Were they having a meeting?"

"Oshima might be able to answer that," Okoshi said, "and the list Private Komagata is compiling might help too."

"If they were having a meeting," I said, "whoever shot them was probably someone they all trusted."

"Another officer?" Yoko wondered.

"Maybe." Aizawa rubbed his chin. Again I thought to myself that he looked drained.

We reached the tenth floor and made our way down the hall toward 1020, where officers and forensic officials worked, and the civilians were being detained. I saw camera flashes, and the air was tainted by the smell of chemicals. The constant murmur of whispering, alarmed voices sullied the air. Aizawa led us through the gauntlet of people like a military commander leading troops onto a battlefield, flashed his badge once, and we stepped into the room.

Blood was spattered absolutely everywhere, on the walls like paint, dripping from the ceiling, pooled into huge puddles and spotty patches on the floor, but the bodies were gone, leaving only chalk outlines.

"Way messier than anything Kira ever did," I pointed out. "It looks like the work of a submachine gun."

"How could someone even get access to something like that?" Yoko asked abruptly. "If that's really what it was, it's something only the yakuza could pull off."

Even the yakuza weren't _this_ careless with their fire fights.

Aizawa took a moment to talk with the officers already on the scene, and then directed Yoko to talk to forensics and me to interview witnesses. Taking Okoshi along, probably for his experience, he went to have a word with the manager and the clerk in person.

At least he'd brought the right detectives for the job. We were hardened enough for the scene, and had the right skills. Yoko's observational talents were well-known in the department, and I knew how to be thorough and firm while asking tough questions.

Too bad, in a way, he'd left Matsuda behind. With his strong social skills and way of putting people at ease, I'd always assumed that would make him good at questioning witnesses or perpetrators directly, as long as someone a little more direct was around to keep him on track, and I would have liked to have him with me.

As I looked around at the gruesome scene, though, I wasn't sure Matsuda would have been able to handle it, especially not if he was suffering from PTSD.

 _Shuichi knows what he's doing,_ I told myself.

Besides, I'd decided to follow his orders, and from now on, at the very least, I was always going to stick by my decisions.

With that thought in mind, I got to work.

Unfortunately, the case turned out to be a little more mysterious than the matter of a man with a gun walking into a room and shooting everybody. According to witness accounts, there had been gunshots around eight o'clock sharp, accompanied by screaming. One or two had been gutsy enough to poke their head out to see if they could get a glimpse of anyone suspicious, but no one saw anyone with a gun. Based on their stories, it did seem like the murder weapon was a fully automatic weapon of some kind, not easily concealed, but none of the bullets had made it all the way through the walls—possibly due to a low grain count.

Nobody knew anything about the message painted on the side of the building or how it came to be there, even though it must have taken some time.

During my investigation, it was mentioned to me that a woman had been looking for her two sons just before the shooting occurred. They'd been wandering the grounds apparently. I was directed to the mother, and I had a chance to talk with her. As it turned out, her kids had been outside during the massacre.

They looked eight and ten, with wide eyes and excited faces. When I crouched to talk to them, their excitement grew, and they told me in self-important voices how they'd arrived at the hotel last night and gone exploring this morning. They happened to be outside around eight. According to the older boy, he saw a man crawl out of the window on the tenth floor and climb the fire escape.

I wrote down the details.

"And the message on the building?"

"That was there already," the younger explained.

His brother confirmed, "It's been there all morning."

In that case, it might have nothing to do with the shooting at all. I went outside and stood around in front of the hotel, smoking and staring up at the sloppy brush strokes.

The goddamned manager himself could have put it there as a publicity stunt.

Coincidence or not, five cops were dead.

I went to the roof next and looked around, but there wasn't anybody there, and I didn't see any way they could have escaped, unless they'd had a damned helicopter.

When I felt I'd gotten as far as I could, I found Aizawa. He stayed unusually quiet, and, thinking he looked troubled, I offered him a cigarette. To my surprise, he took it, something he only did under the height of stress.

Rolling it between his fingers, he muttered, "I need to talk to you in private."

"This is pretty private, Shuichi." I gestured to the elevator car around us.

"Those officers who were killed… I got a list of their names, but I don't know any of them." He handed me the paper.

I read the names out loud, "Captain Fuku Takumi, Lieutenant Joshuyo Eiji, Sergeant Royama Yoshiyuki." I hesitated at the fourth name and stared up at him a moment. "Corporal Matsui Taro."

Gravely, he returned my stare through a screen of cigarette smoke. "Know them?"

"No." I reviewed the list again. "Are they from a different region?"

"Possibly."

"And this name? Coincidence?"

"I hope. Did you get my text?"

I had. It was short _: meeting tonight at 8. Light's apartment. Be there._

Appropriately urgent and to the point. I looked at the list of recipients, but it was just me, Matsuda, and Mogi, so whatever he had to say, it must be an us and them situation.

The elevator opened.

"Commissioner Oshima called me," Aizawa said lowly. "He said since we went to the trouble to organize an investigation without him, we might as well continue."

"Doesn't want to get his hands dirty, huh?"

"I guess that must be it."

"Or is he throwing you to the wolves, Shuichi?"

Not answering, he bit at the tip of his thumb in that thoughtful, bothered way.

With a sinking feeling in my chest, I looked down at the list again.

Matsui Taro…

Coincidence? Or…?


	4. Chapter 4

**Aizawa**

Sitting in Light's old apartment was haunting. I half-expected Light to walk through the door at any moment, or to come out from the back bedroom. I didn't bother trying to imagine what he'd say to us, but there was plenty I would have liked to say to him, along with questions I'd never get answers to.

It was hard to believe Amane wasn't going to bounce in at any given second either, cheerfully offering everyone refreshments. Thinking about either of them awakened a resurgence of guilt in me.

On top of that, my conversation with Commissioner Oshima had been bothering me all day, though it hadn't been very long. Mostly he'd congratulated me on the initiative I'd taken, promising me that this was a great step toward my becoming chief. I'd thanked him, of course, nut I wondered if Ide might be right in both respects—Oshima might be throwing me to the wolves, setting me up to fail, strictly so he _could_ keep his hands clean and avoid an investigation that might involve Kira.

 _It has nothing to do with Kira,_ I told myself again and again. _Kira's dead. I just have to solve this and I'll be chief._

And then I focused hard on Ide's small talk instead. He'd always been good at coming up with off-topic discussions to distract me from my worries, and it was easy to listen to him ramble about the upcoming NPB season for a good ten minutes while we waited for the others.

Mogi came right on time. He'd never shown up at the police station, but he'd agreed to attend this meeting tonight to get caught up, and his face was a smooth mask of stoicism. Today, it would have been nice to have his help, but after Amane's death, I hadn't even considered taking his day of leave away from him.

"How's it goin'?" I asked casually, trying to be gentle.

Mogi shrugged. "Better than some." He took his coat off and threw it over the back of the couch. "Just waiting on Matsu, right?" he asked as he sat down next to Ide.

Expectantly, we all looked toward the door, as if he'd come in on cue, but, as it turned out, Matsuda arrived fifteen minutes late, rubbing his eyes and mumbling alternating excuses about dozing off and getting caught in traffic, so I assumed he'd forgotten we were doing this. I couldn't help feeling irritated. I knew he'd hit a rough patch, but now he _was_ cutting into _my_ time to go home and relax.

Noticing my expression, Ide said, "Hell, it's just fifteen minutes. Siddown so we can get started."

It was good to have him around to balance me out, but he'd been going rogue for a while now. He'd never been the kind of officer to hesitate in the line of duty because a job couldn't be done by the books, he'd flat out refused the promotion Deputy Director Yagami tried to give him, and then flat out refused to give any logical explanation as to why. Since the Kira investigation ended, he didn't seem to have much regard for what people thought at all. As if to prove it, he lit a cigarette, and I could practically hear Misa Amane shrieking, "Gross! You'll make the furniture smell!"

But Ide's cigarette was a lot like Matsuda's fifteen minutes—not a big deal—so I let it slide.

"We need to get a handle on things," I grumbled, "before anything else goes wrong."

"Um, Aizawa." Matsuda raised his hand like he was in school. "What about Yoko and the others?"

"That's what we're here to discuss. We're the only four who know about the notebook, and that's sort of a problem."

Ide agreed. "No one else, aside from L, can look at this case from our perspective."

"How did getting a hold of L go anyway?"

He shook his head, ashing his cigarette in the nearby pot of a dead plant. "No good. He didn't answer."

I should have expected that. Of course, Near agreed to intervene when the NPA more or less decided to hold me ransom for information concerning Kira, but that by no means meant he was at my beck and call.

"Don't you think we can do this without L?" Matsuda asked.

"I have no doubt, but I want to make sure he still _has_ the notebook," I explained. "If it's missing, we might have no choice but to tell the officers working with us on this investigation about it."

Matsuda looked thoughtful. "And what about…" he lowered his voice to whisper, "Light being Kira? We don't want them to know that, right?"

"Of course not, Matsuda."

"There's just one thing I wonder about," Mogi woke suddenly out of the pensive trance he'd been in ever since sitting down. "Someone _could_ have taken pages from the death note. Even if Near still has it, someone could have been biding their time, waiting for an opportune moment to act as Kira."

"What's opportune about _this_ moment?" Matsuda wondered, sulkily.

"We're all off-balance, for one thing. Also, the message." He produced his phone. "I took a picture of the message on the Shinjuku Prince today—from my TV, obviously—and I still have the picture from Amane's room last night. They're close enough that I can only think one of two things: either someone murdered Amane and wrote the message there, which seems impossible, given that there's no physical evidence, or, someone _heard_ about the message and saw it as an opportunity to catch us off-guard and start something they've been planning a while."

We all stared at him. "You sure you took a day off, Mogi?" I asked under my breath.

He tucked his phone away. "It makes sense, doesn't it?"

"I told everyone not to mention the message."

"I'd say that's the nature of classified information," Ide decided, tapping his cigarette on the rim of the planter. "It gets leaked, one way or another. What's important is, this isn't Kira's style. The information we got back from ballistics confirms that there was only one weapon: a semi-automatic assault pistol. A TEC-DC9."

Matsuda asked slowly, "Then…so, do you think another officer did it?"

Ide rolled his eyes. "Sure, Matsuda. Detective Ito picked up a machine gun from his buddy the yakuza boss and is wandering around the streets of Tokyo with it, killing all the officers he doesn't like."

I paced to the window, biting the tip of my thumb. "A gun like that isn't likely to be legal in many places other than the US. Still… I guess it would be _possible_ to get one off the black market. Who really knows what the yakuza's been up to lately?" Damn, this thing was already making my head hurt, and I didn't see why it should. It only just started, and it wasn't so mind-bending. Just a matter of catching a freak with a gun.

"This is the work of a human," Mogi decided. "Even if Kira _had_ to have someone shoot them, he could have just as easily chosen one of the officers we found today. I think the fact that the gun _is_ rare means we're dealing with a person."

"I agree," Ide said. "Witnesses saw a man climb from a window on the tenth floor right after the shooting stopped."

"But where would he go after that?" Matsuda wondered.

"There are a number of ways he could have gotten away. We should look at the security footage from the hotel."

"These are all things we'll have to try and figure out later," I interrupted. "The purpose for the meeting is to discuss the notebook. No matter where it is, no matter if we're dealing with another Kira, no matter what the reason behind all this is, it'll be hard to work with anyone unless we explain the notebook."

"Hell, let's tell them." Ide leaned back in his seat. "I mean, what difference does it make? We don't have to explain who Kira was, or where the notebook went.."

Mogi nodded. "Telling them seems like the best choice."

Matsuda hesitated, but he agreed too. "That way we won't have to waste time convincing them we're not looking for Kira."

I was glad it was unanimous. Still, I said, "We should hold off until we find out what L has to say."

They all agreed that sounded best.

We talked a little about what to tell the others and how, and we discussed whether or not we trusted the other investigators on the team, but we all seemed to agree on those points as well. A small relief.

With that all hashed out, I lifted the envelope I'd brought along. "These are the five IDs retrieved from the victims, along with the list of NPA members Kei compiled."

The others stared anxiously at me, and then at each other. Ide had probably guessed where this was going, and Mogi had a way of divining things based on very little information, but Matsuda looked grimly prepared for the other boot to drop.

"These guys weren't NPA officers."

"Are you sure?" Mogi asked.

"I made some calls and checked around, but there's no record of them being members of the NPA anywhere in the country."

"Wait a minute." Matsuda said. "So someone gave them fake IDs? Why?"

Nervously, I explained, "The only thing I can think of…is that this was a message. I don't just mean to the NPA, I mean to _us_. The four of us."

Mogi's eyes widened. "Why would you think that?"

I fished into the envelope until I found the ID I was looking for and tossed it to him. "Take a look."

Mogi stared at it a long time, memorizing every scrap of information it had to offer, even turning it over. "It is fake," he murmured, "though it's well done." He handed it to Matsuda without looking at him, and I waited tensely.

Matsuda stared at it for a second. His eyes popped and he blurted out, "Matsui, Taro… But that's me…"

Ide took the card next, flipped it over a few times and held it up to the light. "It isn't your picture anyway. Do you think someone just happened to make a fake NPA ID with Matsuda's alias on it?"

"I don't know." I took a deep breath, wondering if there was any way to put it that wouldn't scare the crap out of the kid. "The only people who knew about that alias were the people who worked with us under the original L, and most of them are dead. But…anyone who worked with Misa or happened to be around while Matsuda was pretending to be her manager would also know him by that name."

Almost simultaneously, we all turned to Matsuda, and I could see it all over his face how freaked out he was, but he kept it together.

"Wait a minute," he objected. "Mogi pretended to be Misa's manager for a lot longer than I got to. It _could_ be a coincidence."

Ide reminded him, " _Mogi_ didn't try to infiltrate Yotsuba all by himself, and he didn't go on TV later either. You're way more memorable."

"It could still be a coincidence," I agreed, taking the ID back and putting it in the envelope. Some coincidence though. They'd even put his rank on there.

Equally unsettling was the fact that all five ranks were correct pertaining to the five of us, including Light—one captain, one lieutenant, a sergeant, and two corporals.

"If it isn't though, the killings today were probably just a device to get our attention."

"How?" Matsuda demanded.

"Whoever did this would know the message Kira lives would get the attention of the investigators who were on the Kira task force. If that's really what he did, and then he also plastered your fake name on a fake NPA officer, it could mean he knows that's not you're real name."

"So it's a message," Ide said impatiently. "So what? What's this freak trying to tell us?"

I took a long pause, not wanting to think about what this freak might be trying to tell us, hoping I was wrong. At last I said, quietly, "I'm not sure."

"He's trying to tell us he knows who killed Kira," Mogi said suddenly. "That's what you think, right?"

Sighing, I nodded. "That could be it."

"Matsuda didn't _kill_ Kira," Ide growled, loudly.

"No… But if we take the notebook out of the equation… Anyone who doesn't know about it might _think_ he killed Kira."

Matsuda slumped back in the couch. He muttered, "I get it."

"This is all just speculation," Mogi reminded him.

"We don't know anything," I told them, "so, for now, we need to gage the situation and use discretion when it comes to the officers we're working with. In the meantime, we'll keep having these meetings every week at the same time until we don't need to anymore. I know it's a morbid place, but we might be able to keep meeting here, if we arrange things with the landlord."

"We should be able to tell him it's being used for official police business as we look into Amane's death," Ide suggested. "That'll work for a while."

"Good idea." I added, just to put it out there, "At this point, most of the world supports Kira, and the NPA is going to be viewed as the bad guys. We all need to be careful." I realized I'd said everything I wanted to say. "That's all, I guess. Unless you guys have anything else you think we need to discuss."

No one else did, so I directed them to leave one at a time, fifteen minutes apart, just so the neighbors wouldn't notice a group of cops using their building for a secret meeting.

Mogi left first, and then Ide. Even though I wanted to get home to my family, I knew coming first and leaving last was part of being in charge.

By nine forty, I was quietly watching Matsuda fidget with one of the coasters on the coffee table, trying to figure out what I should do with him; For a while, I'd been waiting for some Kira fanatic to flip and try to get back at the officers who'd eliminated him, but I hadn't thought even for a second that they'd try to single just one of us out, and the moment I'd seen the fake ID this morning, my heart had dropped. Obviously, it would be the height of foolishness to let him investigate on a case where he might be in danger, but then that seemed stupid when we'd just gotten off a case where we'd _all_ not only been prepared to lose our lives, we'd come damn close.

Thinking back, it was hard to remember how that had felt. For one thing, I'd been just another grunt, so the extent of my concerns regarding Matsuda in particular had been more about whether or not his reckless behavior would make the case more difficult, and even then, it hadn't been my business to fret over it; I supposed, near the very end, after I'd become convinced that Light was Kira, I'd started to feel more and more worried, because I'd known how easily Matsuda's loyalty could be used against him.

Guiltily, I reminded myself that I'd never done everything in my power to change Matsuda or Ide's mind about Light. After I discovered Light and Takada were passing notes in the hotel room, I'd mentioned it to Ide, but he'd shrugged it off. With Matsuda, I'd decided he was too far gone, so I hadn't bothered, but now I wondered, if I had managed to convince him, would things have turned out this way?

In any case, I was in charge now, Matsuda was my responsibility, and yet I felt powerless. The commissioner had the authority to transfer him to a different project, but he'd want an explanation, and the truth was out of the question.

"How could anyone find out I shot Kira?" Matsuda wondered suddenly.

"There's no guarantee they did," I said slowly, reluctant to abandon my thoughts.

Matsuda slid me an unfamiliar, sharp look, and I knew just what he was thinking—I'd been the one to talk to the higher ups. At this point, if anyone had leaked that information, it would have to be me, and yes, I'd spent many a restless night since then, worrying that I _had_ accidentally blurted something out that might implicate him.

"No one knows, Matsuda," I reassured him. "I didn't tell anyone."

"But seriously. My fake ID on a fake NPA officer under a big sign that says Kira lives… How can that be a coincidence?"

"Matsu," I sighed. "We're not dealing with Light. We'll have this cleaned up in a couple of weeks at most, so don't lose any sleep over it."

But his eyes were somewhat wild as he looked up from his coaster, and I got the feeling he'd barely heard me. "If they found out what my alias is, how hard could it be for them to find out what my real name is?"

"We don't have any evidence, Matsuda. It's too early to freak out."

I knew he wasn't convinced, but he nodded. "Yeah. I guess you're right."

"Just be careful."

He nodded again, and then checked his watch, reaching for his jacket. "See you tomorrow."

I watched him go, the inexplicable urge to walk out with him nagging at my mind, thinking, again, that if I'd tried harder to get him to see the truth about Light, he wouldn't have shot him, and then we wouldn't be in this situation.

He'd pulled the trigger. I was the poor excuse for a CO who'd let him.

"Matsu," I said, a little roughly.

Not looking at me, he hesitated, and the hand that reached for the doorknob trembled slightly. I knew he didn't want me to see that he was scared.

"Really. Be careful. Okay? Until this is over, be extra careful."

He flashed me a quick smile. "You got it." And then he was gone.

I waited long enough for him to drive a few miles, and then I shut off the lights and left.

On my way home, I tried not to think about the things that happened today, but the problem was, in this new world born out of the death of Kira, it just seemed like there wasn't much left to hold onto. I still had my family, of course. Looking after my wife and kids was my priority. I still had my job, though it seemed to be on the verge of collapsing into something I had never expected.

Other than that, I had the men I'd worked with on the task force—my friends—and I didn't like to think that someone had purposely singled one of them out. After all, whoever this maniac was obviously didn't want to find Matsuda so he could congratulate him for killing Kira.

 _Matsuda didn't kill Kira_ , I reminded myself as I pulled up the house.

I'd seen it first hand, and still the concept of the death note was so surreal, the part of my mind that wanted to stay sane would almost rather accept that Matsuda _had_ killed Kira, and if _that_ wasn't sickening, I didn't know what was.

He'd always been such a clown. I remembered the night we met with original L for the first time, and how Matsuda had babbled on about being a secret agent, acting like a dumb ass despite the serious circumstances. I remembered wondering why a kid like that was determined to stay on the task force.

Despite his willingness to cooperate, he'd been distracted by nonsense, and none of us had been comfortable with trusting him to do anything very important, especially not L. Sometimes, when I felt frustrated, I'd found myself wondering what it was exactly that Matsuda contributed to the case other than stupid jokes and inappropriate amounts of enthusiasm. Not to say I didn't grow to be fond of him, but he never stopped annoying me, and I never stopped wondering where his value as a detective might lie.

Until January 28th, when, with one bang of the gun, he'd shown me exactly what he was made of.

As officers, we had been taught to use our weapons as a matter of last resort, and we'd been trained well enough in martial arts that, for the most part, we shouldn't even _have_ to use them.

Matsuda had thrown that protocol to the wind, and I'd seen in his eyes how badly he'd wanted to kill—he would have succeeded if I hadn't intervened. That bothered me. Not because I cared so much about protocol, or Light, or because I thought Matsuda was wrong, but because the Touta Matsuda I'd gotten to know and come to care about had been hurt that deeply.

Of course, he just acted how he felt on a second by second basis, always relying on instinct, but trying to kill someone you considered a friend… That was something dark, and it haunted me. That awful look on his face, the sound of him screaming and crying, that honest intent to kill Light, it all had been burned into my memory, as if to forever conflict with the happy-go-lucky memories of Matsuda I'd collected over the six previous years. Sometimes when I looked at him, I saw a sharpness in his eyes I'd never noticed before, and I wasn't always completely sure who I was dealing with anymore.

Forcing those thoughts out of my mind, I grabbed my jacket and briefcase and headed inside. My kids met me at the door, hugging me and squealing with excitement, but Eriko stood in the hallway, frowning.

"You're late," she said.

Though it wasn't the first thing I wanted to hear from my wife when I got home, I tried to smile. "Yeah, sorry." I set my things down while the kids both tried to tell me about their days at the same time.

Eriko calmed them down after a moment. "I told you guys you could stay up until Daddy got home. Now it's time for bed."

They whined and begged to stay up longer while I slumped into a chair at the kitchen table, rubbing the bridge of my nose and listening to her convince them to go to bed, and then they both came and said goodnight to me. It made me sad I couldn't see more of them.

Eriko tucked them in and then came back. Her hand slid over my shoulder as she walked past me. "Are you hungry? I can heat up some leftovers."

"Yeah, thanks." I squeezed her hand.

"What happened today?" she asked as she prepared the food.

Momentarily, I remembered how scared her voice had been when I talked with her on the phone.

"I can't talk very much about it, but some people got killed. I'm in charge of the investigation."

She hesitated to face me. "You are?"

Again, I expected something better. A congratulations or at least some fake excitement, so I just nodded.

"Cop killers though? And guns?" Her face contorted with alarm. "That's so dangerous."

"Somebody's gotta catch them, babe."

"But why does it have to be you?"

"That's just the way it went."

Without another word, she went back to heating up some dinner for me, and I watched her. It had been hard to hang in there during the Kira investigation. We'd fought so much. I loved her more than anything, and still there had been times I'd worried she might leave me.

"It'll be okay," I told her in a while. "I've got some good people working with me."

"Hideki?"

"Yeah, you know he'll watch my back."

"Still."

"Nothing's going to happen."

"I know." She sighed and brushed hair from her eyes. I loved the way she did that. "I just hoped you'd get to take it easy a little longer. Especially after that last case."

"This won't be like that. I promise."

Not answering, she set the plate in front of me and then sat down with me as I ate, toying with her earring and staring out the window. I tried to find a way to reassure her, but I knew nothing I said would make her feel better.

"They might make me chief," I told her between bites.

Eriko flinched and stared at me, mouth falling open. "They might?"

"I'm a candidate. I think if this case goes well I'll get the job." I grinned at her.

"Is that what you want?"

Again, her tone was disappointing. "Sure. It means more money."

"And more time."

"Not _that_ much more time."

"Well, can't you decline?"

I couldn't help stopping to stare at her. "Eriko, it's a big promotion."

"No, you're right." She shook her head, rustling her dark hair. "It's just that I feel like we already see so little of you. Maybe you could ask for time to think about it."

"I could… There is no chief right now though; they won't wait long."

"I'm just worried." Her forehead wrinkled as if to prove it.

I hated to see that. I wanted her to be happy and smiling all the time, like she was back when we were young. While I was in the academy, my job as a police officer was romantic and exciting. The Kira investigation had killed all that, and now I knew Eriko just wanted me to be home, safe, with her and the kids, even if that meant I became a stay at home dad.

"I'll decline if that's what you really want," I told her gently, reaching across the table to lay my hand over hers. It felt so small and delicate.

"No, a promotion would be good." She got up suddenly, pulling her warm hand away. "I'm going to bed."

"All right," I muttered, more disappointed than ever. "I'll be in soon."

As she slipped away into the shadows of the hall, I pushed my plate back, not hungry anymore.

So much changed the day Kira died—my relationship with my teammates and my job, of course—but Eriko was supposed to be my constant, and not being able to explain to her how insane everything else suddenly felt might be the worst part of all of this.

The night they _finally_ let me out of my debriefing, she'd sat down close to me on the couch, studying me with obvious worry, and asked to know what it was all about, but that little bastard Light had somehow transformed my wife into just another person I couldn't tell the truth to, and that handful of secrets felt like a drop of poison, gradually destroying everything between us.

 **Matsuda**

In the morning, I took an extra long shower, feeling almost dizzy from all the concerns racing around my head. Everything was happening so quickly.

 _Light's dead. Misa's dead. How did someone find out about the alias L and Watari gave me?_

It was my rank too. It was obviously _supposed_ to be me.

My friends apparently wanted to pretend it might be a coincidence.

 _If they really believed that, Aizawa wouldn't have asked me to be extra careful last night._

Would he let me help with this investigation, or would I be assigned forever to a life of desk work?

 _At least it isn't Kira all over again. At least it's just some maniac with a gun this time._

How did they manage it in the United States? With everyone running around carrying guns all the time, how did they keep track of who was shooting who?

 _How did they find out what my alias is?_

No, never mind that. How did they find out I shot Light?

 _The only ones who know about that now are Near's team and my friends._

I couldn't bear the thought that someone might have betrayed me.

When I stepped out of the shower, I still felt filthy and tired. Last night, my nightmares had seemed worse than ever.

No excuse though. I headed to work, but the building was quieter than ever, and I passed a lot of empty desks. At least there were plenty of extra coffee and donuts in the break room.

Breakfast in hand, I went back to conference room 3. Mogi was there already, and I greeted him warmly, even though I felt anything but cheerful.

 _Mogi would never betray me. He's too good at keeping secrets._

I was all too willing to drop into one of the chairs around the table, sipping my coffee tentatively. I'd put too much sugar in it.

The others started to arrive right after that. Kei skipped into the room first with a bow. "Good morning, gentlemen."

Chiba came after her, and they sat down next to one another, murmuring.

I watched them subtly. Kei was really pretty, with her Japanese eyes and white skin. Her mouth reminded me of cotton candy, but she was almost as tall as me, and her eyes matched the sky. There was a time, I thought, when I would have been all over her, even if she _was_ out of my league, but with everything going on, all I could wonder about her was why an American cop would come all the way to Japan to join the NPA.

Apparently, Chiba was attracter to her also. He kept moving his hands from his lap onto the table, folding and unfolding them, and then putting them in his lap again.

 _They don't know anything about the Kira investigation, but I don't know anything about_ them _._

The last time I trusted someone without questioning it I wound up betrayed and hurt.

Smoothing her black velvet hair, Yoko came in. I hadn't forgotten our conversation from the other night, and when she smiled at me it was hard to smile back. Why would she want to know more about Light and Kira?

 _It's normal to be curious about that, isn't it?_

Okoshi was right behind Yoko. He reminded me of the chief, with that stern, seasoned demeanor and iron gray mustache. He seemed like he wanted to help.

A few minutes after that, Ide showed up, smoking a cigarette. He sat down with Mogi and started talking to him about things that had nothing to do with the case—baseball and car trouble, mostly—out of all of us, he was taking this the best. Weird. Didn't he care that we'd been betrayed?

 _That doesn't mean he's a traitor. Ide wouldn't betray me…_

Suddenly, I was scared that he would. If being betrayed didn't bother him, betraying people wouldn't either.

That idea hurt. In a funny way, Ide had grounded me in the past, always being real and honest, accepting me the way I was even if I annoyed him, joking and chatting with me like I was an equal. After he'd joined us on the task force, it suddenly felt unbelievable that I'd ever worked without him. How did I not go crazy, being around mute Mogi, and explosive Aizawa, serious Soichiro, and lying Light all the time? It had always felt like Ide could relate—that was really cool about him—and more importantly, that he _wanted_ to relate. When Aizawa and Mogi started to turn against Light, it had really helped me that Ide still saw things my way, giving me confidence that I wasn't just a blind idiot. I'd trusted his judgment completely.

Now, if I found out that I couldn't trust him after all, that might destroy whatever was left of me.

 _Finding out I can't trust any of the guys would be too much…_

Forehead wrinkling, Ide turned to me, and I realized I'd been staring at him a while. "Hey," he said, in a casual voice, and Mogi looked at me also. "You good?"

They all _acted_ like they were worried about me.

"Yeah." I tried to smile. "I'm good."

"Okay," he agreed, with a note of uncertainty, and then added unexpectedly, "Tell me if you're not."

 _I have to trust him,_ I told myself. _For my own sanity._

Aizawa came in last, looking as tired and bothered as I felt, but it was hard to picture his night being worse than my own. If nothing else, he had a good woman to hold him if he woke up out of a nightmare.

 _I know I can trust Aizawa. Especially after everything he's already done to make sure nobody finds out I shot Kira._

I was so stupid and careless, maybe I wouldn't even notice if my friends were out to betray me. Maybe they'd all decided I'd be the fall guy in the Kira investigation. Maybe they weren't my friends at all and I just hadn't seen it. I hadn't noticed that _Light_ wasn't my friend.

 _This is crazy. Why am I even thinking like this? None of them would betray me. I trust all the guys—I want to trust them._

"Sorry I'm late," Aizawa grumbled, setting up his things at the head of the table. "I've just been informed that some new victims were found this morning."

"NPA officers?" Ide asked, sitting forward with rapt attention.

"Ex-NPA officers. Both of them retired just a couple months ago. There were only two of them, but they were legit this time."

"Then we're checking it out, right?" Kei asked, sounding excited and snapping her gum.

"Some of us, yeah. Everyone else will stay here and work on deciphering our information from yesterday. Ide, I want you to start working on finding out where that assault pistol game from."

Ide nodded.

"Take Kei."

Now Ide looked surprised. "Komagata? Why?"

Aizawa was visibly annoyed by that. "Don't ask me why anything, Lieutenant."

Kei turned in her seat to snap her gum at Ide. "'Cause I know about guns, ikemen." She made a gun with her hand and pointed it at him.

Ide muttered, "Your Japanese is shitty."

"You help me with that, and I'll help you with the guns."

"Just do what I tell you," Aizawa muttered. "We'll worry about grammar and manners later. Captain Okoshi, you, Mogi, and Chiba look into leads from yesterday."

Chiba stammered, "Th-there were no leads from yesterday."

"Don't tell me that. There were leads from yesterday, so follow up on them." He waved a folder at them. "This should help."

Chiba looked offended by Aizawa's gruff answer, but Okoshi leaned over and patted his shoulder.

"I know we don't have a lot to go off of right now," Aizawa said to everyone. "But this was far from the perfect crime. Whoever killed those people yesterday must have left something behind—clues—it's just a matter of noticing them and piecing them together. Also, I _am_ in charge of this investigation. You agreed to do this my way. Nobody else better question me. Matsuda—"

I barely suppressed a groan. "Please tell me I'm not pushing papers again."

Aizawa's annoyance tripled and he practically spat, "Didn't I just say I'm not in the mood to be questioned? No, Matsuda. You and Yoko are going with me to investigate the new crime."

My heart leapt. It was the first exciting news in what seemed like forever. "Really? That's great!"

"Curb your enthusiasm, Corporal, we're going to investigate a murder."

"Oh, right." I sat up, trying to look more professional "No. Of course, Chief."

Rubbing the bridge of his nose like I was annoying him already, he muttered, "I am not the goddamn chief."

We took two cruisers to the scene of the crime. Aizawa and I went in his car, and Yoko followed us in hers. I was glad I didn't have to ride with her, in case she had any more unnerving questions to ask about Light.

Aizawa stopped the car outside a hole in the wall bar.

"Yama's," I read. "Think _that's_ a coincidence?"

He simply furrowed his eyebrows at me.

"Um. You know… The god of death? In Buddhism?"

Rolling his eyes and muttering, "I'm not religious," he stepped out of the car.

"Oh, yeah, but." I hopped out after him. "I just meant—"

"I know what you meant." He trucked ahead of me, like he wanted to get away from the topic. "I just don't have an answer, Matsuda."

It was a drab morning in Kabukicho, cold and damp, like it could start raining at any second, and the scene was already taped off, with only a few curious spectators watching the forensics team work. Right away, Aizawa started talking with the cops on site, and I paused to ask, "What should I do?"

But his only answer was a gruff, "Investigate."

Before the Kira case, I'd never even sneezed near a homicide case, so I had no idea how I was supposed to investigate one, but hey, it was better than pushing papers, and I was more than happy to wander around a while with my notebook and phone, talking casually with anyone who happened to be nearby, and taking pictures.

In a little bit, though, I felt frustrated. Normally, I'd be good at questioning witnesses, but none of them were on site anymore, other than the barkeeper, who'd seen the victims last, but he was surly, and all he had to say was that they'd seemed kinda drunk when they left. Beyond that, as near as I could tell, the victims had simply gone into the alley and then never came out again.

I tried to look for clues, but with a whole team rooting around, I began to suspect that Aizawa must have brought me just to keep tabs on me.

 _Better than pushing papers_ , I reminded myself as I wandered down the dead end alley, where there wasn't so much as a manhole the killer could have used to escape.

Past where the bodies had lain, an old fire escape hung from the wall of the bar. I stepped over their chalk outlines to look at its rusted frame and missing rungs. It didn't look safe, but if I really wanted to, I could jump up and catch it, climb onto the roof or the second story of the bar.

 _Another roof escape?_

While Aizawa kept talking to the officers, I went inside the bar to talk to the bartender again, asking to have a look upstairs. He gave me a hostile look, but he agreed, so at least I didn't have to throw my weight around.

Up the narrow staircase, the steps creaked beneath my feet, and several rooms waited, all closed up with rotting doors, and the hall smelled musty. I headed for the room on the far left, the one that should overlook the alley.

Just a storage room full of boxes, where every surface was coated with a thick layer of dust.

Choking a little, I covered my mouth with my sleeve and checked around, going to the window first. It was locked now, but the shooter could have locked it after climbing through. The filthy glass was covered with fingerprints. Would he be stupid enough to leave any?

Outside I saw the top of Aizawa's head and Yoko with the forensics officers. Directly across from me, the message KIRA LIVES had been painted on the bricks in bright red. My blood ran cold when I saw it, and I relived the way it felt to find Misa Amane dead in Light's old bedroom.

I turned away.

Something shiny caught my eye, lying near the wall beneath the window, half-tucked behind a box. Without touching it, I crouched down to get a better look.

"A shotgun shell…"

I checked my notes, but so far everyone I'd talked to seemed to think that the victims' wounds, and the reported shots, were made by a double-action pistol like the one I carried, and so far ballistics had only recovered nine millimeter rounds.

Walking around Japan with a _shotgun_ was about as crazy as walking around Japan with a submachine gun.

Besides, finding the shell here meant the shooter was in this room, and there was no way they could have shot someone in the alley with a shotgun.

Picking an evidence bag out of my pocket, I grabbed up the shell with a gloved hand, deposited it in the bag, and then rushed downstairs to talk to the bartender.

"Excuse me, sorry to bother you again, but I have another question for you."

"Yeah, what?" His gravely voice and terrible manners made me pause.

"Did you happen to hear any shots _upstairs_ last night?"

"No. No shots upstairs. Just outside."

 _What does it mean? Two weapons. But why?_

"All right, thanks anyway." I turned to go outside, but hesitated, looking out the window. Someone was standing there, watching me. I just saw them from the corner of my eye, but as soon as I turned to get a better look, the person ducked out of sight.

By the time I ran to the door and threw it open, whoever it was had already slipped behind the corner, and while I stood there, tempted to run after them, Aizawa showed up.

I almost jumped out of my skin when he pounded me on the back, and he raised his eyebrows.

"S-sorry," I stuttered, feeling stupid, and then I stared up the street to where the watcher must have disappeared. Just another civilian, trying to get a glimpse of our investigation.

 _No reason to be paranoid._

Aizawa asked me something. I didn't hear.

I made myself look at him again. "Sorry. What?"

"This isn't getting to you, is it?"

"The scene? No. I just thought I saw someone spying on me."

His nostrils flared and his mouth twitched, but the rest of his face stayed calm as he took a quick glance around. "Did you get a good look at them?"

"They were short…with dark hair."

He sighed. "That's most of Japan, Matsuda."

"I didn't really see."

Aizawa spent another moment scanning the area. "Did you find anything out?"

I rattled off some of the things I'd taken notes on, though I assumed he knew all of it already, and Yoko gathered in close to us, so I drew my notes closer to my chest out of instinct. I still didn't know if I felt comfortable having her on this investigation.

I pulled the shotgun shell from my pocket. "I found this upstairs." I led them back into the alley to point at the window. "Up in there."

They both turned to stare up the side of the building. Aizawa mused, "It's not a good vantage point for shooting someone. Especially with a shotgun."

"It's not… _impossible_ ," Yoko said with an air of doubt. And then her eyes lit up. "Why were the victims in the alley in the first place? You'd think ex-NPA officers would know better. Something must have caught their eye."

"You're right," Aizawa muttered. He looked at me again. "Matsuda, run to the end of the alley like you're leaving the bar, and see if you can see the message."

"You got it." Tucking the shotgun shell back into my coat, I jogged down to the mouth of the alley and turned the corner, spun around and began to walk again. Right at the corner of the building, I could see the message, half-blocked by a dumpster. "I see it!"

"In that case." He strode toward me, Yoko right behind him. "The message might have been in place before they were killed—like yesterday."

"They probably saw it and went to check it out," Yoko agreed. "Before they could report it, they were murdered."

"That's what I'm thinking."

"What about the shell?" I asked. "Nobody I talked to said anything about shotgun fire."

Yoko added, "The wounds on the body weren't made by a shotgun either." She pointed at the wall where the message was painted. "Those bullet holes weren't made by a shotgun."

"Two guns," Aizawa grumbled.

"Why?" I wondered. "What was the shotgun used for?" I thought about the dust in that room. "The casing hasn't been there very long."

Aizawa was rubbing his goatee, the way he did these days. "If there were two guns, there were probably two shooters. Shooting the victims from the window would be sloppy, but if there were two men, one may have killed the officers, and then—"

"The second killed his partner!" Yoko chimed in. "Got away completely clean."

"Why would someone do that?" I asked.

Aizawa glanced at me like the question was stupid. "To tie up a loose end."

As soon as he said it, I felt dumb.

Yoko went on like I hadn't spoken, "But it'll be almost impossible to find out who owns that gun."

"Even if we dig around in the black market it'll be tough to find. If the man who bought it is dead, it'll be worse."

"Building a case without a murder weapon is pointless."

"You're right. We're not going to catch this guy by retrieving a few bullets. Ah, hell. The shooter from yesterday might be dead too."

I felt so stupid, listening to them talk like they knew exactly what was going on. I wondered why Aizawa even bothered to bring me here.

"We need hard evidence."

"Like fingerprints," I said.

"Fingerprints would be great," he muttered. "Blood would be better."

"I didn't see any blood."

He folded his arms, biting his thumb.

Yoko said, "Even if they find traces of blood, it'll belong to the man with the nine."

"If he's dead, we've still got nothing."

"Still, it's a lead." She smiled.

"I'll take what I can get." He pounded me on the back suddenly. "Good find, Matsu."

My face got sort of hot. I didn't know if Aizawa had ever told me I'd done a good job before.

"Yeah." I smiled. "Thanks…"

"Take the evidence back to headquarters and give it to Okoshi and Mogi." He handed me a thick folder. "Can you do that for me?"

At least I knew he didn't bring me along just to keep tabs on me.

"Yeah." I added the shell my own notes to the folder. "You bet I can, Chief—I mean, Captain." I winced, sure he'd snap at me again.

Instead, Aizawa grinned too. "We're gonna catch this sonnova bitch, Matsuda."

"Of course we are," I agreed, feeling out his suddenly optimistic mood. "There's gotta be something here we can use, right?"

"As long as you don't lose that folder."

"Oh. No. I would never—"

"I'm kidding, Matsu."

"Oh, right. I can never tell. Your face is always the same."

He rolled his eyes. "I won't bother from now on."

"It's nice though. Kidding is a good change of pace." I glanced at Yoko, but she was just watching us. She'd probably never seen Aizawa joke with anyone before. I felt better about her though. She was smart, and it was good to have her perceptions on our side. I smiled at her. "Yeah, Yoko?"

She flashed a smile back. "You better get going before his good humor runs out."

"Right. See you guys back at the station." I headed back to Aizawa's car, still grinning to myself, feeling a little proud.

On the way back, there was so much to think about I could barely pay attention to what was going on around me.

Two gunmen. One to kill the victims, the other to make sure there were no liabilities. If the second man was careful, everything that might accidentally get left at the scene would belong to his partner, and that meant no leads.

But he messed up leaving the shotgun shell behind.

And I found it. Me. Stupid, idiotic, screw-everything-up Matsuda.

Maybe being on the Kira investigation helped me even more than I'd expected.

Finding the shell might even lead to an arrest if we could find somebody who'd bought a similar shotgun on the black market. I'd never dealt with the black market before, but _somebody_ had to know where to go to get information. Ide or Aizawa. Maybe Mogi. Okoshi definitely would. They'd figure that part out. And in the meantime, I'd be the one who'd found out about the shotgun in the first place. Nobody could take that away from me.

I stopped at a red light, drumming on the steering wheel with the radio cranked; the sun had come out at last, and I was amazed by how much better I felt just from someone telling me I'd done a good job. So that's how this felt.

A doubting voice told me, _Aizawa would have checked that room. Someone else would have found it._

Maybe not though. Maybe Aizawa wouldn't have thought of it until later, and maybe the shell would be gone by then.

Unlikely. Aizawa wasn't L, but he _was_ thorough, and sharp.

Whatever the case, I found it. That was enough for me.

Someone tapped on my passenger window, and I looked up expecting to see a peddler selling fruit or flowers. I was even in a good enough mood that I might buy some. Sayu could probably use a gift right about now. I should check on her.

My heart froze. I was staring down the long barrel of a pistol, into a shadowy face.

That second seemed to go on forever. At first, I wasn't sure I believed it was real. I wanted to cram the accelerator and speed away, but I was boxed in by other cars, trapped.

My car door opened, and I watched in shock as the man with the gun climbed in. I hadn't locked it. I should have. Why didn't I?

"When the light changes, drive." His voice, clotted with a thick accent, was muffled behind a black handkerchief tied around his mouth and nose. Large sunglasses hid his eyes, but his gaze bore into me.

Inevitably, I found myself staring at the gun, hovering centimeters from my nose. I'd never seen anything like it in real life before; it had a perforated heat shroud on the barrel and was loaded with a maximum capacity magazine even longer than its grip. It looked a lot like the Uzis I'd seen in movies.

 _Machine gun…_

I should have looked at him right then and there and tried to distinguish _something_ about him since he was obviously the killer from yesterday, but I was terrified, unable to take my eyes off the gun.

"Pay attention to the light. You don't have much time."

Swallowing hard, mouth still hanging open, I faced the light again. My frozen heart had started racing.

The light changed, and I gunned it by accident.

"Watch it," he growled. "Don't draw attention."

I tried to breathe. The gun nuzzled my ear.

"Slow down," he ordered. "Draw attention, and I swear to Kira I'll kill you."

 _Kira…_

I eased off the accelerator, struggling to get a good look at him from the corner of my eye.

He was tall, his knees scraping the dash, head brushing the ceiling of the car, and he wore all black with the hood of his jacket up. The only thing I could distinguish was that he was totally bald.

God, I felt dizzy. I felt so sick.

Someone had to have seen him get in my car. Would they call the police?

My friends weren't coming to save me. By the time someone called the cops, I'd probably be dead.

I bit back all the whining and begging that ached to pour out of me. God, I was scared.

"Listen to me," he snarled, biting off every word with his harsh accent. "You're going to drive to the police station at a legal pace. I need you to drop this off."

For the first time, I noticed the envelope riding on his lap.

"Keep both hands on the wheel. Eyes on the road."

That voice… It sounded like ice in a blender.

"Don't try anything." The instructions went on. "If your phone rings, don't answer it. Give no indication that you're in trouble. That's not hard, is it?"

My tongue had turned to sand.

For a while after that, he was quiet. I struggled to focus on driving, taking the shortest route to the station I could think of. He had the gun on me at all times, and I felt terrified my phone might ring, that I'd answer it out of reaction. I worried I was driving wrong, but I couldn't focus on the road.

 _What if he changes his mind on the way and decides to kill me?_

It didn't matter. The package he had might be a bomb.

Everything that had seemed important a minute ago didn't matter all the sudden. I wanted to get out of this car. I wanted to get out of this car now. I wanted to get out of this car _alive_.

Forty minutes felt a lot like two hours when I had that gun to my head. I must not be driving all that great—people honked at me, and I jumped every time. I needed to wipe sweat out of my eyes, but I didn't dare take my shaking hands from the wheel.

When we were a few blocks from the station, he finally spoke again. "I have a present for you."

He set the envelope on the dashboard. "Take it inside. The whole NPA is going to sit down and watch it together. After that, you have a week to decide. If the decision is wrong, you'll hear from me again. Do you understand?"

I didn't dare move.

"Do you?" he hissed, grinding the gun against my skull.

I jerked my head in a nod and a tiny squeak came through my lips. It almost sounded like yes.

"Good." The freezing barrel dug into my head. His lips touched my ear, whispering, "Stop the car here. Once I'm gone, drive to the station. A bomb has been placed in the engine of this vehicle—if you stop before you reach your destination, or if you try to get out of the car before then, I'll blow you to hell."

I shivered, gripping the steering wheel so hard I thought my knuckles would break.

The passenger door opened.

"Five minutes. That should be plenty of time to reach the station and get out of the car." He snagged up the folder containing the evidence we'd just gotten from the crime scene.

I jerked to life, trying to grab it back. "You can't—"

He jammed the gun into my forehead, slamming me back against my own door.

All the sounds of the city and the traffic stopped, leaving nothing but my ragged breathing.

His cool, vicious voice growled, "You just worry about getting to the station in under five minutes, little policeman."

He slammed the door and walked away, disappearing into the nearest alley.

I hit the gas and sped up the street.

The next five minutes were a nightmare. Every second that passed, I felt sure I was going to blow up. I kept one eye on the clock and the other on the road, swerving around other drivers and taking turns too sharp, sliding into the wrong lane.

When the station loomed into view, I reached over and grabbed the package the man had left. I slammed my brakes, pulling up onto the sidewalk.

Heart pounding, I sprang from the car and dashed toward the building.

A loud boom shook the ground, knocking me down. The warmth of fire washed over me. My scream got lost in the sound of the explosion and the sudden chorus of car alarms.

I covered my head with my arms, pressing my face hard into the cold concrete.

An endless moment of terror passed, and debris rained down on me, and then I heard shouting voices.

Shaking all over. I forced myself to look up again, staring at the road.

Aizawa's car had become a huge ball of bright flames.

People ran out of the building, screaming and cursing.

Everything was chaos. The world had stopped. Nothing moved but that explosion. Everything moved at once, suddenly, jerking me with it. Someone touched me. My body flinched automatically.

"Matsuda!" Ide screamed in my face. "What the fuck happened?"

Each breath felt like a stab in the throat.

I climbed to my feet, thinking my legs would give out like weak stilts, but Mogi gripped my shoulder, eyes bulging. "Are you all right?"

At the reek of burning fuel, my stomach curdled. I had to bite back vomit.

 _I'm alive_! I thought. _I'm alive!_

For a moment, that's all there was. Joy and freedom of sweet living. The sky… Had it always been so blue? Had the air always smelled so good? Had the sun always felt so warm? I wanted to lie down and take it all in.

 _I'm alive…_

I clutched the package tight to my chest and reached for my phone.

 _I'm alive._

The screen of my phone was badly cracked, flickering.

I licked my lips. No way my mouth would work now.

 _I'm alive though…_

Blinking, I stared up at Mogi and Ide, standing over me, steadying me, waiting for answers. "You okay?" Ide asked for what was probably at least the third time.

"Yeah." Haltingly, I turned toward the door of the station, each step feeling light and unreal. "You better tell Aizawa…I lost the evidence…"


	5. Chapter 5

**Aizawa**

Shoes clicking on the floor, mind racing, I paced around the lobby.

Yoko and I had still been at the scene of the crime when I got the call from Ide. I had expected the report of another murder, but I had _hoped_ it was good news. As it turned out, it was worse news than I'd even imagined.

Matsuda was involved in a car-jacking. My car was _gone_. All the evidence—destroyed. It was too surreal to make sense of, and I had to see it for myself.

But when we reached the station, there it all was: the fire department hosing off the smoldering remains of my car, and the ambulance on standby. Traffic officers held a perimeter against the civilians trying to get by—the road itself was blocked, so Yoko dropped me off in front of the building while she went to park. The officers on scene told me my car had been equipped with a bomb. How though? When? Why? No one could tell me those things, and my mind ran rampant with horrifying scenarios.

By the time I finally made it inside, half the force had gathered in the lobby to watch the mayhem outside, but Ide met me at the door and led me through the crowd to the far corner, where Mogi sat with Matsuda.

When Matsuda saw me, he all but jumped out of his chair. "Aizawa, your car… The evidence. That guy blew it up! I tried to stop him—there was no way. I didn't know how! Don't be mad. I know you told me not to lose the evidence. It's gone… All of it. The shotgun shell."

Mogi muttered to him, "Relax" and put a hand on his shoulder.

I gave him that envelope less than two hours ago, and I _did_ tell him not to lose it. I wasn't serious though. Even he wasn't that careless. Still, here we were, and everything we'd gotten off the scene today was gone.

"Don't be mad," Matsuda said again, with some desperation. His eyes were wide and his face was as white as his shirt. He was shaking all over and his hands were scraped. "Don't be mad."

I was angry, but I didn't know who to be angry with, so at the moment, I just felt angry with myself, and taking that out on him wouldn't be right; I turned away without a word and walked to the reception desk, bracing myself against it for several minutes as I tried to rein in my emotions.

Matsuda babbled, "I don't know what I could have done! He had a gun on me the whole time—I didn't know he was going to blow everything up—even if I'd tried to get out of the car, he would have just killed me. What could I have done? I'm sorry, Aizawa! I did everything I could—"

I had just enough composure to ask, "Are you all right?"

He paused a long time, like it was the last thing he expected to hear. "I'm okay."

"You should go to the hospital—you're in shock."

"I don't… I'm fine. I don't want to."

"Then sit down and be quiet. I need to think."

For the next half hour, that's all I did. Paced and paced, thinking.

We could take witness testimonies again, but all the hard evidence we'd picked up…there was no way to recreate any of that.

 _A case with no physical evidence is as pointless as a case with no murder weapon. Seven people are dead, and we have nothing._

It was like everything that happened today was absolutely meaningless.

And my car. I wondered what I should tell my wife. She'd be so scared when she found out someone strapped a bomb to my car.

 _Why did they even do that? What did it accomplish?_

While I paced, people tried to talk to me, but I just grunted at them until they went away, and after a few had done it, Ide started intercepting them, handing out somewhat flippant, terribly political answers to their questions, but for the most part it was just, "As you can see, he's busy."

"We should go somewhere more private," Mogi suggested, in time.

No matter where we went, people would try to interrupt my thinking. No matter how private it was, everything was gone.

Finally, I stopped pacing and walked over to Matsuda, who watched my approach nervously and even sank down deeper in his chair.

"Aizawa," he said my name like I was far away, getting further all the while, with no hope at all that I'd actually hear him. "I'm sorry…"

Leaning over him, I clamped a hand on his shoulder, feeling the way his breath shuddered and his body trembled. I could almost hear his heart racing, and I saw the panic in his eyes. I couldn't believe I was such an asshole he actually thought I might yell at him for this, or that I could even think of blaming him. "Are you sure you're okay?" I asked him quietly.

He gave a jerky nod, but I noticed a bruise developing in the dead center of his forehead.

"Don't you think you should go to the hospital? I'll go with you if you want."

"No. I'm not hurt."

We couldn't _make_ him go to the hospital.

Mogi told me, "The medics looked at him. They said he's fine, just shook up."

"Anyway, that…that's not important right now…" Matsuda lifted his jacket, bunched up on the chair next to his, to reveal a thick envelope. "He told me to bring this here."

"I looked at it," Ide announced. "It's a tape. I guess we're supposed to watch it; movie night at the cop shop."

"I'm so sick of tapes," I grumbled, straightening up again. "Fine. Let's go upstairs. Matsuda, if you're not going to the hospital, I'm going to get someone to drive you home."

"No," he stood up, clutching his jacket. "I want to see what's on that tape."

Mogi and Ide both grumbled their disapproval.

I rubbed the bridge of my nose. "Matsuda…why are you being so stubborn? You were just involved in a carjacking."

"Because I'm okay," he said, voice a little shaky, but firm.

I couldn't force him to go home any more than I could force him to go to the hospital. "Fine," I sighed. "We'll all go upstairs." Ushering him ahead of me, I started for the elevator, and the others clipped along just at my heels.

Across the lobby, the crowd of onlookers had shrunk, but Yoko still stood there, arms folded, watching the four of us intently. I also picked out Okoshi, Kei, and Chiba, looking like they weren't sure if they should try to follow.

Not for the first time, I realized that the rest of the force was making a distinction when it came to us, and we weren't quite a part of them the way we used to be.

On the elevator, Matsuda slumped against the wall, thrusting hair out of his eyes with shaking fingers.

"What can you tell us about the carjacker?" Ide asked.

"Ide," I groaned. "Not right now."

But Matsuda said, "I didn't get a very good look at him." He briefly described what happened, how the carjacker looked, and some of what he'd said, but he couldn't give us many details about the man himself. He did a better job describing his weapon, and the image of someone shoving a machine gun in Matsuda's face made my blood boil. Judging by the way the other two cursed and shifted their weight, they felt the same way.

As we entered the conference room we'd been using for our investigation, I said, "You told me someone was watching you at the crime scene this morning." I was dumb to brush that off so quickly. I should have made it a priority to at least try and find out if someone had been spying on one of my guys. "Do you think it was the same person?"

Matsuda dropped into a chair, his face taking on that pensive look he sometimes got as he considered the question. "No," he decided in a moment. "I didn't see that person very well either, but there's no way it was the carjacker."

"Could have been someone working with him," Mogi suggested, sitting down as well.

Ide took his seat next, but I didn't feel like sitting. I paced once around the table, and then I made a pot of coffee. Nobody rushed me.

Matsuda was alive, and that was the most important thing. The evidence was gone, but if the man had taken it he must be connected to the case. It was possible the tape he'd given us could make up for the fact that he'd taken the evidence in the first place.

I poured everyone some coffee, and I made Matsuda some tea, thinking he was wired enough without drinking caffeine.

Only then did I sit down, sipping from my mug. I mused, "No one got hurt in the explosion. So why blow up my car at all?"

Ide tapped the tape lying on the table. "To make sure Matsuda brought this to us?"

"We're trying to solve a homicide case. He could have just handed it to him, and Matsuda would have brought it."

"He wanted to show you how close he got to you, Aizawa," Mogi said, like it was the simplest truth on earth. "He could have put that bomb on your car anywhere. Here. At the scene of the crime… Outside your house."

It was my turn to shudder. Thinking of some deranged bastard sneaking around my house, where my children slept… That was too much.

"Sorry," Mogi said quietly. "That's what I think though."

Ide agreed, "In that case, he knows you're in charge, and he wants you to know…" He shot a furtive glance at Matsuda, who looked halfway checked out again. "He could have killed one of your guys today."

I scowled down at the tape. "So I'm supposed to take _this_ very seriously. Is that it?"

"Let's see what it says," Ide suggested, getting up to put the tape in the player.

We watched it in silence. It was made in the likeness of the tapes we'd seen during the Kira investigation, showing nothing but a graphic of the message KIRA LIVES across a black background. A distorted voice babbled on and on about Kira's second coming, and the crimes of the NPA, incoherently almost, but the gist of it was that the NPA had to hand over the man who'd killed Kira within one week, or the entire force of the Kanto region would be destroyed.

I didn't have to hear very much to understand that the person who'd made it was an absolute lunatic—a Kira fanatic who wanted revenge—and he _was_ out to get us specifically, just like we'd thought. More to the point, he was out to get one of us in particular.

 _He doesn't want the whole taskforce. Does he think he can destroy the whole taskforce by killing just one of us?_

As the tape ended, I glanced at Matsuda, but he'd grown paler than ever, and his eyes had glazed. He was letting his tea go cold.

"What _now_?" Ide huffed, sounding decidedly bothered. "There is no _man_ who killed Kira. Even if we told this psycho that, he wouldn't let us off the hook."

Mogi spoke quietly, "We all agreed to tell the world that Light died facing Kira. We all agreed we'd say Kira got shot and killed, but not say who did the shooting." He hesitated. "We also agreed that if we were forced to give anyone a name, it would be Matsuda's."

"Right," I snarled. "Why did we decide that again?"

"Because it _was_ Matsuda."

Scoffing, I shook my head. "We should tell them it was Light and be done with it."

Everyone was silent a moment. Mogi asked, delicately, "Then…why didn't you tell them that during the debriefing?"

"I didn't want to give Light the credit," I muttered. "Besides, me sitting in a cold cell for three days in a row is a lot different than people _dying_."

"In this case," he pointed out, "they couldn't have revenge on a dead man, and they wouldn't leave us alone anyway."

"So what? Give up Matsuda just to save our own skins?"

"No one said that," he argued in his calm tone.

"This is ridiculous. One man can't destroy the NPA all by himself."

This case was already starting to chafe my ass, and damn did I feel tired.

 _If I don't handle this, though, someone else will, and I am so sick of letting people handle things in a way I don't agree with._

"The four of us were there when Kira died," I said, getting up to pace again. "Everyone knows it had to be one of us. Even if we told them it was Light they might not believe it, simply because Light's dead."

"We could always tell them about the notebook," Ide suggested. "The _truth._ "

"Tell a huge organization about the death note? Tell this _psychopath_ about the notebook? How can you think that's a good idea?"

Without warning, he slammed his hand down on the table. "Then what _are_ we supposed to do? We only have one week, and this guy's threatening to kill innocent officers. You think we can _find_ him in one week? We don't have any evidence! We don't even have a decent lead! We don't have jack _shit_ , Shuichi!"

Despite his short fuse, it wasn't often Hideki Ide lost his temper with me, and it caught me off guard a moment, but my tongue caught up quicker than my mind could. "The truth is _insane_ , you idiot! Do you think this maniac will even _believe_ a notebook of death is behind all this? Do you think he'll be satisfied if we tell him a shinigami killed his precious Kira? Use your fucking head! He wants blood! Not fairy tales!"

He stood up too, shouting at me across the table, "You want to _give_ him that blood?"

"I don't know _what_ to do, Hideki!"

Mogi got to his feet, holding his hands out. "Arguing like this isn't going to help. What we need to do is figure out what we're going to tell the rest of our squad before they get frustrated!"

"We can't drag them into this!" Ide snarled, turning on him next. "It's bad enough the four of us are involved!"

"We don't have a choice," I barked. "They're the only ones who are even remotely interested in helping us, and I'm _not_ doing this case with just the four of us! We all just need to calm down."

"This isn't a time to be calm! The fact that he's already murdered seven men and not left even a trace of evidence behind is fucked up enough to me—destroy the whole NPA? No. Kill a dozen or two of us? Yes! Is that okay with you Shuichi? Are you willing to let ten or twenty other guys take the fall?"

"What do you want me to do?" I roared.

Matsuda leapt up suddenly, yelling, "Guys! Stop it! Mogi's right, this doesn't help!"

The fact that he'd come out of his semi-catatonic state was enough to shut the rest of us up for a second, and he capitalized on that immediately.

"If we tell them I killed Kira… That's fine!"

My eyes popped as I turned to him. "What the hell?" I stormed over and got right in his face. "Do you want to die?!"

He held my gaze earnestly. "Bait. I'll be bait. I'll go to the place the tape specified at the time the tape specified and wait for him. You guys hide. When he shows up—"

"Has it occurred to you that the place specified is an old shack in the middle of nowhere? What if something goes wrong?"

"It's the only chance we've got. If we don't—"

"No, Matsuda!"

Ide echoed a split second after me, "Matsuda, shut up!"

Mogi looked at him. "We all agree on _that_ anyway."

But Matsuda wouldn't relent. "Ide's right—why should _anyone_ die when we can resolve this by—"

"By killing you?" I cut in.

"N-no! But—"

"You didn't even kill Kira, Matsuda! Maybe that's some sick fantasy you're having lately, but none of us killed Kira, and none of us deserve to take the blame for it!"

Anger reddened his face, and he threw his arms up. "It's _not_ a sick fantasy!" His voice cracked, and I knew I'd cut him. "You think I'm proud of it? I'm not saying all this so I can take the blame for killing Kira, I'm saying it because I don't want anyone to die!"

Feeling foolish for saying that to him, I lowered my voice. "Maybe L would make a move like that, but _I'm_ not playing with people's lives to win a game. _I'm_ in charge, and we're doing this my way, and I'm telling you right now, we're not using you as bait."

"Aizawa—"

"I said no! If you say anything else about it, I'll take your ass right off this case! I'll have you suspended from the whole department if I have to! I'll ship you to China in a refrigerator box! But I am _not_ going to listen to this anymore! You got it?"

He glared at me. It was a pretty dangerous look for Matsu, and I knew he was furious, but he kept a stiff upper lip, jerked his head in an extremely brief nod, and sat down again.

I turned back to the others. "We're going to tell this bastard we don't negotiate with terrorists, and we're going to put every second of every day for the next week into finding him. Is that perfectly clear to everyone?"

They both nodded.

"What if we don't find him?" Matsuda asked. It wasn't his usual bullshit question routine; there was a subtle hint of defiance in it.

"We will."

"What about the rest of the NPA?" Mogi wondered.

"Right?" Ide snapped. "What do we tell them if men start dying because of the four of us? What about when they find out it's all because we don't want to explain what happened that day?"

Suddenly, I felt like they were all challenging me, all saying my plan was wrong. What did they want to do instead?

 _Can I really handle this?_

"We'll tell everyone on our team about the notebook," I decided. "We have to trust them."

Mogi frowned and cleared his throat. "You're sure that's what's best?"

"No," I growled. "No, I'm not sure what's best at all, Mogi. By the way. If any of _you_ have the perfect solution, please, I wanna hear it." I shot a warning glare at Matsuda. "Except you, Corporal. You're all shook up from almost dying in an explosion, and you're getting shitty ideas right now."

None of them had a goddamned thing to say, _finally_ , so I sent Mogi to get the rest of the squad, and they came up to the conference room, where we told them the whole story of the death note, conveniently leaving Light out of it.

It took them time to process, and I could tell they didn't quite believe it. They had their questions of course, some we could answer and some we couldn't. In the end though, they had to accept that it was the story we were sticking to.

"Kira's power was…a notebook…" Kei muttered, dubiously. "Like a student's notebook…?"

Chiba demanded, "Are you guys saying this just to protect whichever trigger-happy sonnova bitch—"

"Don't start with me," I warned. My friends could question me behind closed doors, that was one thing, but I'd be damned if I let anybody else try to undermine my authority. "It's the real deal, and if you don't believe it, you can just transfer your ass to another case."

Mogi shook his head.

I heard Ide mutter under his breath, "God dammit, Shuichi."

Nobody left.

Okoshi got us back on point, and I was grateful for that. "We don't want yet another murderer to be aware of the existence of this…notebook… I think the four of you are right—we have to try to catch the perpetrator before he can start killing people." He stroked his mustache thoughtfully. "That may not be easy…"

Rubbing the bridge of my nose, I sank deeper into my chair. "Nothing about this is easy."

Okoshi nodded. "It goes without saying discretion is of the utmost important, but this does affect more than just our own team. After all, if this killer plans on targeting officers, they deserve to know."

As shaky as my faith in the rest of the department felt, I knew he was right.

"You should address it to them as soon as possible," he advised. "It might provide an opportunity to find more allies, or even some new ideas."

Everyone seemed to think that was a good idea, and I felt grateful to Okoshi for the suggestion. Higher-ups obviously weren't interested in being helpful, if Commissioner Oshima's reaction was any indication, but at least I had someone with a little more experience on my side.

We scheduled the announcement for the following morning, and then I dismissed everyone, reminding them not to mention the notebook to anyone else.

As we walked down the hall, Ide stepped up beside me, not looking at me. "I'm sorry," he muttered.

Part of me still couldn't believe he'd blown up on me like that, and I thought, even though he'd seemed calm lately, he was, like me, attempting to hide the way the Kira investigation had left him feeling.

"Why?" I sighed. "It's not like you're _wrong_."

"No. But neither are you, and you're my superior."

Again I pondered the fact that he'd rejected the promotion that would have kept us at the same rank without ever giving a good explanation for it.

He added, "I shouldn't have argued with you like that in front of the others."

"Yeah… Same here. Let's not do that again."

Touching my shoulder, he asked, "Want a ride home?"

"Thanks. I gotta figure out what I'm gonna do with Matsuda though."

Ide smirked. "You're gonna be one helluva chief, Shuichi."

After today, I wasn't sure I could be anything other than a shitty chief.

"Hey," he said after another moment, giving me a serious look. "Arguing with _me_ or Matsuda doesn't mean you'll be a bad chief."

"Yeah. I guess you're right."

"At the moment, I feel like the four of us are hardly part of the NPA at all."

On the same page as me, like always. "We might as well all transfer outta here," I grumbled.

With a wry smile, he teased, "Running away doesn't sound like the Shuichi Aizawa I know."

"No, but I don't know how well we can do here at this point. Everyone knows who we are… I personally have a hard time taking orders from anyone I know would have rather bowed down to Kira than helped us."

"It is hard. That's why the only person whose orders I'm following from now on is you."

"Yeah… Well that may not always be possible, Ide." After starting out together and working side by side for years, imagining him going through the rest of his career without me felt impossible, and yet, there still seemed to be imminent danger of my own career soon ending in disgrace.

He gave another sly grin. "We'll see. Anyway. See you tomorrow, Shuichi." Slamming my back, he walked away, and for at least the millionth time, I wished I could see myself the way he did.

Next, I found Matsuda, plodding down the hall, not far from Mogi. He'd stopped shaking, but his walk lacked the usual bounce, and when he greeted me, his voice lacked the usual pep.

Even so, it was tough to convince him to let me drive him home, and I caught glimpses of annoyance in his voice as I pushed the issue. Eventually, though, he relented, and then we endured yet another drive filled with awkward silence; this time, I didn't bother trying to make conversation—I was too absorbed by my own worries—and he seemed checked out completely.

"Why," he finally wondered, as I parked outside his apartment, "why is this happening?"

"Why does _anything_ happen?" I grumbled, sullenly thinking I'd rather have that pointless conversation with him than go home and tell Eriko about my car. "Life is just like that."

"I…know. But. Is it really because I shot him?"

Bleakly, I stared out at the parking lot, not wanting to relive that moment, yet again. "Whether you'd shot him or not, Light would still be dead, Matsuda. So, no. There isn't a reason. People do evil things, and that's all there is to it."

Nodding like he wasn't completely certain, he stepped out.

I went up with him for a while to wait for my cab and make sure he'd be okay, but there wasn't much I could do other than stand by the door and glance around his messy place, noticing signs that he'd at least tried to tidy it, but from the half-assed job he'd done, I assume he'd given up in the middle.

"You don't have to come to in tomorrow," I told him.

"You keep telling me that." He dumped his jacket on the back of the couch and threw off his tie. "We're the police. Aren't we supposed to be able to have near death experiences and then go to work in the morning?"

"I doubt it." I didn't know when the last time a cop was involved in a carjacking had been, and it made me think there was some element in all this I hadn't thought of yet. Outside of Matsuda's inane question regarding _why,_ what made someone bold enough to think they could get away with strapping a bomb to my car and then go waving a submachine gun in my corporal's face?

Again, I studied the bruise developing on Matsuda's forehead. It was growing, but it looked perfectly round, which made me think the perpetrator may have slammed him there with the muzzle

Even if that wasn't what happened, it made me all the angrier.

 _I'll get him for that,_ I told myself. Japanese law enforcement had always been merciless on people who broke gun control laws, but this was personal.

"All I'm saying is if you don't feel up to it tomorrow, just let me know."

He never responded, and my cab came right after that anyway.

As I headed home, I memorized what to say to Eriko. Obviously I couldn't hide this from her, but I wished there was some way to spare her the fear of knowing what happened.

She reacted exactly the way I expected her to. Her eyes popped and then filled with tears, and she clasped her hands to her mouth as I tried to explain the situation to her as calmly as I could.

When I was done, she blurted, "You have to get out of this case, Shuichi."

I hesitated. "Eriko, I can't bail on a case over something like this."

"Yes you can! You could have _died_ , Shuichi."

"Hey, c'mon." I rubbed her shoulders. "I'm okay."

"This time! You have no idea what will happen next."

"Nothing's going to happen."

"How can you say that? Someone put a bomb on your car! They tried to kill you. I-I have no idea…" She slid down into a chair. "What we would do without you…" She started to cry.

I glanced toward the kitchen, where the kids were setting the table for dinner. "Nothing's going to happen." I clenched her hand. "I promise."

"Talk to the commissioner—get him to transfer you off this case!"

I thought about telling her Oshima hadn't been the one to assign me this case; my friends had, and that made a world of difference to me.

"This case is important," I told her finally.

"That's what you said about the last case!" she wailed.

The kids had heard her crying. Now they both stood in the doorway, watching us with huge eyes, asking what was wrong.

"Everything's fine," I told them. "Go wash up for dinner."

They stayed where they were.

"Yumi," I ordered more sternly, "go."

Slowly, she took her brother's hand and led him away, still looking at us over her shoulder.

With a sigh, I leaned closer to Eriko. "I'm a police officer, Eriko. I can't just run away because a case is dangerous. That isn't how this works."

She wouldn't look at me.

"Honey…" I felt a small flame of despair and desperation sprouting up inside me. "I need you to support me."

Finally, she looked up again, face pink, lips quivering.

"I can't do anything without your support—I don't want to."

Slowly, she dried her eyes, and when she got up her resolve had strengthened. "Am I supposed to support every decision you make? Even the ones that might get you killed?"

That felt almost as impossible to answer as Matsuda's questions about _why_. Of course, my wife should always support me—I should always support _her_ —but no. I didn't expect her to encourage me to risk my life. At last, I pled with her, quietly. "Let's go eat, okay? We can talk about this more later."

"What is there to talk about? I don't want you on this case; you're going to do what you want—like always."

She started to turn away, but I caught her hand, feeling like I'd been stabbed, and I was scared. I was scared to let the others down, and to lose her, and to let the freak behind all this win, much, much more than I was afraid to die.

"Just say that you love me," I muttered. "That's all I want to hear."

I watched the resolve break down slowly. Her shoulders slumped and her expression relaxed. She stepped forward to press against me, wrapping her arms around my neck, and whispered in my ear, "I love you."

Leaning my head into her shoulder, I closed my eyes to immerse myself in the feeling of being with her for just as possible.

 **Sayu**

Trying to make up my mind, I stared at the number on the screen of my cell phone. Soon, it would be ten—too late to call anybody, let alone someone I didn't know particularly well.

Of course, he might not agree to meet me at all.

A little nervously, I glanced around the market parking lot, but given it was a weekday, not many people were out, and most of them looked like night people who just wanted to mind their own business.

Ever since I'd been kidnapped, it had been difficult to go out alone, but after Dad and Light died, I started feeling like it barely mattered what happened to me, and now Matsuda had reminded me that Mom needed me, and I hardly knew what I should do. I only knew it was up to me to show the world that the Yagami family had not been defeated. Assuming Kira really _was_ alive, as the media insisted, I intended to find him and bring him down myself.

At last, I pressed the call button and waited breathlessly as the phone rang.

After the third ring, a groggy voice answered. "Moshi-moshi?"

"Hey, it's me," I said, a bit stupidly.

It took him a second to process. "Sayu?"

"Yeah, sorry. Did I wake you up?"

Matsuda yawned. "Yeah… But that's okay. What's up?"

Of course, he was too sweet to be mad that I'd dragged him out of sleep.

"Can you meet me?"

He paused and shifted the phone. "Right now?"

"As long as it's not too late."

"No, it's fine. At your house?"

"I'm a few blocks from there, outside the supermarket. Do you need the address?"

"I've been there. It'll take a little while… You're not in trouble, right?"

I smiled a bit to myself. He _was_ sweet. "I'm fine. There's just something I want to talk to you about."

He agreed to be there as soon as possible, and we hung up.

I had to wait almost half an hour for him, but I stayed close to the building, in the light, watching everyone cautiously. Even dressed like a boy, with my hair tied back, I knew my feminine charms were enough to get me in trouble, so I pulled my hood up and lowered my eyes any time someone passed me too closely.

Finally, after what felt more like two hours than thirty minutes, Matsuda approached, dressed down in a t-shirt and a Wacko Maria jacket. It was pretty different from most of the times I'd seen him in the past, but I still recognized him, and he looked good, young and fit, almost wild with that black fringe of hair falling a bit messily in his face.

As he drew closer, I waved to him, and he picked up the pace, expression surprised. "Geez, I didn't recognize you. Are you okay?"

"Yes. How are you?"

"Oh." He rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I'm…fine."

There had always been something permanently young about Matsuda's face that I'd noticed even as a teenager, looking at him usually from a distance. His soft cheeks and light eyes had so much color and spirit, his smile perpetual and warm enough to melt frost, and there was something inherently tender to it. Something that said this man—this boy—had been born to live the good life, full of endless games and laughter in the sun, sheltered from anything difficult or dangerous, and something in his face was almost too sweet to be a man's look. Even when I was young, I'd thought it was strange he'd turned out to be a cop.

Standing right in front of him now, he looked pale; I noticed a haziness of anxiety glinting in his eyes, and the dark circles under them had gotten worse. Clouds had gathered in his expression, as if he'd seen something terrible, altering his appearance so drastically, he almost wasn't Matsuda at all. Suddenly, I felt sorry for waking him up.

"I didn't know you went to bed so early."

"I don't normally." He rubbed the back of his head. "Today was…weird. Anyway, what did you want to talk to me about?" He glanced around, looking almost as unnerved by the few strangers near us as I felt. "This is a weird place for a meeting."

"I know. I have a confession to make, and I didn't want Mom to overhear."

Innocently, he studied me, not even guessing at what I had to say.

"Promise you won't be mad." I bit my lip, trying to look cute. Beautiful Misa had been good at getting men to do whatever she wanted, and even though she was far cuter than me, I knew I could pull it off if I needed to.

"Is it bad?" he wondered.

"No. It's sort of stupid…" That was definitely the truth. I was being incredibly stupid with all of this.

Patiently, he waited. Touta Matsuda might not be the typical policeman I'd always pictured, and in a way, he might not even be the best candidate for what I had in mind, but he was also the most likely to indulge me.

"I was spying on you today," I admitted. "At the scene of that crime."

Matsuda's eyes widened with surprise. "That was _you_? What were you doing there?"

"I went by to look around…" I took a deep breath. "Because I've been sort of investigating this case." I wished I could have said it a little more casually. I would have even liked to laugh about it, but laughter, like lightheartedness, didn't come easily these days.

Immediately, Matsuda's mouth dropped and his eyes bulged. He stammered. "Case? What case? _The_ case? Aizawa's case? With the crazy messenger running around writing Kira lives everywhere? _That_ case?"

Anyway, there was no backing out now. I nodded.

"Sayu, that's crazy!"

"Kira murdered my father and brother. Now that message is showing up everywhere. It's connected."

"Sayu," he sighed and his voice softened. "Kira is dead. I told you that."

"Then why _is_ someone writing Kira lives on everything? You'll excuse me for having some doubts about it as long as that's going on."

"I don't know what's happening," Matsuda admitted quietly. "I just know it isn't Kira."

"Can you prove it? Show me his remains?"

He didn't even have to think about it. He shook his head at once, and he wouldn't look me in the eyes.

"Is that because there are no remains?"

"There are."

"If you show me, I'll drop this right now."

"I can't, Sayu." He ran his fingers through his hair a few times. "Won't you drop it anyway?"

"No. Not until I'm satisfied."

Unexpectedly, his voice took on a firm tone, mimicking Aizawa's. "I don't think you understand how dangerous this case is."

"Well, that's why I called you. It's better than investigating by myself, isn't it?"

Matsuda frowned.

"Then about my confession—"

"Wait—wasn't admitting you were following me and investigating this case the confession?"

"Part of it. The rest of it has to do with what I did in Kabukicho. See, I had to wait a while for Aizawa-san to leave, but I think I got a few answers you guys may have missed."

Though his eyes brightened, his expression stayed skeptical. "Like what?"

"Now wait. Are you gonna help me, or are you gonna take my tip and dump me at my house?"

Matsuda hesitated a long, long time, staring helplessly at me. "Sayu…I think that's withholding information."

"I guess that's my answer then."

If I went to Aizawa with info like this, he'd be angry and maybe even arrest me, but Matsuda caved immediately, "Okay, fine, tell me what you know, and I'll think about helping you."

Good enough for now. "Being a cop, you may not realize this, but there are a lot of things people aren't willing to tell the police that they're eager to tell other civilians. For example, the bartender you guys talked with today wasn't working there last night."

His eyes got wide again. "Are you serious? That means he's not a real witness."

Thinking I had him, I glanced around at the people near us again, unable to help but feel like they were watching us. "Could we maybe talk about the rest in your car?"

"Oh, right." Smiling at me, he led the way back to where he'd parked, still mumbling to himself, "A different bartender. Why would he not tell us that? Maybe somebody's forcing him to keep quiet. Or maybe he's being paid…"

As we walked, I stayed close to him. Traditionally tough or not, being with him did make me feel safer, and once we were in his car, I felt even better. It was a nice coup, with leather seats and an expensive stereo system—exactly what I'd expect a young, single guy to drive.

I buckled my seatbelt out of habit, and he started the engine to run the heater, asking, "Does your mom know where you are?"

"She knows _where_ I am; she doesn't know I'm meeting you to share information about a police case."

Even though he smiled, the look in his eyes told me he didn't find it funny. "I should take you home soon. What else did you find out today?"

"Oh, yeah." I grinned largely. It used to work on Light—my brother had probably always thought I was dumber than I was, and that was fine. _You can be the smart one forever, Anikun._ "This is big too. While I was hanging around outside, I heard some guys talking. They complained about how the place had been crawling with cops all day, and how you can't trust anyone anymore. That brought up a subject I think you might find interesting."

He stared at me, just a touch of impatience quirking his full mouth.

"They were talking about a shotgun."

Matsuda's face transformed, maple-colored eyes darkening, eyebrows dipping low. His normally charming mouth twisted down in a frown, and he seemed to glare at the dashboard, unbecoming wrinkles marring his smooth forehead.

Of course, here in Japan, most kinds of firearms were illegal, and being a cop that would bother him.

"Shotgun…" he echoed, grinding his teeth.

"They didn't talk very much about it," I went on tentatively. "The one man mentioned that someone had tried to sell it to him. That's part of why he was saying you can't trust people these days. He…"

Matsuda kept glaring. It was almost frightening.

"He said it happened a ways away from there, but still in the same neighborhood, like the seller wanted to get rid of it quickly." He didn't say anything, so I got out my phone to consult my notes. "A bar called Blue Heaven."

Nodding to himself, Matsuda suddenly threw the car into gear and peeled out of the parking lot. "I'm taking you home." The blackness on his face poisoned his voice too.

"What? C'mon, no! You can't go check that place out all by yourself!"

"I'm not going to," he said, but I could tell it was a lie. That was something I'd always been better at than Light—reading people. He'd gotten caught up in their details: what color of tie they wore, what kind of accent they had, what their shoes said about them. I operated on intuition.

"Even if you go get Aizawa-san right now, it isn't going to matter. Things aren't like they used to be—people don't trust the NPA."

He didn't acknowledge that.

"I mean they don't think they need you guys. Going to this bar, flashing your badge around, won't get you anywhere."

"What's the address?" he asked stonily. I'd never seen him like this, and I got the feeling he was under a lot of stress.

"I'm not sure I should tell you."

"C'mon, Sayu."

"No." I snapped. "I don't know what you're hoping to accomplish by running over there like some knight in shining armor."

"More than you can get done sneaking around with a notepad, withholding information from the police."

There was no way he'd tell on me—not Matsuda—but I sat back in my seat, fidgeting with a tattered sleeve of Light's old sweatshirt. "Are you going to turn me in?"

He bit his lip a little. "No… But…I wish you'd tell me so I don't have to wander all through Kabukicho looking."

Being that he could just Google the address, and Kabukicho was a pretty routine place for someone in our age group to go, I didn't quite know what to make of the soft uncertainty in his voice, but it was further proof that he wasn't a hard-boiled cop by any means, and, honestly, I didn't _want_ him to go alone.

"Even if I gave you the address, you wouldn't be able to find the guy."

He thought about that a moment. We were getting close to my house, and I had to find something. I wasn't about to let Matsuda call me off.

"Can't you describe him?"

"There was something about his nose…the shape of his ears…"

"Shape of his ears?" Matsuda echoed incredulously. "That doesn't help. Dammit!" He pounded his steering wheel, and more and more I was getting the feeling I wasn't dealing with the typical Touta Matsuda I'd encountered in the past.

As he mulled it over, I could almost see the wheels turning in his head. Suddenly, he asked, "How old are you?"

"Twenty-one in June." I tried to hide my irritation. "I'm legal."

"If I let you come along…just to look for him real fast…you would behave yourself, right?"

I couldn't help laughing this time. "Yeah, of course!" What did he think I was going to do? Get smashed while he investigated?

He didn't laugh with me. "Your mom would kill me if anything happened."

My compassion was genuine as I leaned over to touch his arm. "What could possibly happen if I'm with you?"

From the way he glanced at me from the corner of his eye, I knew he felt conflicted, but he muttered to himself, "It's the only lead we have since…" Then, louder, "Aizawa can never find out about this, okay?"

"I'm not gonna tell him. Are you?"

"I dunno," he admitted. "If I show up with some great lead on the shotgun tomorrow, he _is_ going to wonder. But if I tell him how I found it, you'll get in trouble."

"I did tell a cop," I reminded him.

"I'll get in trouble then."

We stopped at a light. My house was just in sight, and I still didn't know what he'd decided.

"Then why don't you tell Aizawa-san?" I asked. "Go file a report. Get him to go with you." It occurred to me that he might not work well with Aizawa. "Or one of the others."

Matsuda sighed and leaned back in his seat, staring up at the traffic light. "I _should_. We need this lead."

I tried not to look nervous. If he chose to drop me off and go file a report it would even be for the best—I knew that—but it wouldn't really help me.

Haltingly, he spoke. "It's just that…lately… No, for forever… Aizawa doesn't… He thinks I'm an idiot. That's a bad reason. I know it is. But if I show up with an awesome lead…"

Matsuda wanted to prove himself. That was something I could understand and use to my advantage.

"If you show up with a great lead, he'll be so happy about it, he probably won't care how you got it. The important thing is you'll be a step closer to solving this case."

"Yeah. It is."

Our light changed, but he whipped a sudden U-turn, and we headed toward Kabukicho.

 **Matsuda**

I found a spot not far from the bar, and then I sat a moment, looking at it. "What a total dive," I muttered to myself. It was in a squat building, situated on a corner, directly across from a pawn shop, and the place right next to it looked completely deserted. I watched a few people coming and going. One was a drunk, singing his way home, and then there was a couple—the woman was screaming and hitting her boyfriend. Above them, the neon light of the bar flickered off and on, and the whole corner glowed electric blue.

Finally, I turned to Sayu again. She was staring at the bar also, toying absently with her necklace and biting her lip.

After my close call earlier today, I really didn't want to leave the safety of my couch, where I'd curled up as soon as Aizawa left, pulled my jacket up over my head, and passed out to the sound of the TV. There wasn't much I would have left my apartment for, but with everything that happened to Sayu's family, a call asking me to come meet with her was something I wouldn't ignore. And now there was the possibility of finding something out about the shotgun, that couldn't be ignored either.

"Do you want to wait in the car?" I asked her.

Sayu shook her head right away. "I'd rather stay with you."

That made sense. At this point, I didn't know if I could protect her from anything, but she didn't know how anxious I felt, and it should stay that way. So I got out and went around to open the door for her. We walked shoulder to shoulder as we crossed the street and entered the eerie light of the bar sign.

Up close, the building was even shoddier than I'd thought, made of grimy bricks, and the roof was dilapidated. One window had been boarded up, and the others were filthy. A stray cat rooted through a dumpster around back, and broken bottles lay scattered at the entrance. A punk leaned on the wall, smoking. His clothes were tattered, and his buzzed hair jutted up in pink liberty spikes along the crest of his skull. His ears had holes in the lobes large enough for me to fit my fingers through.

I cast a wary look at him. We were just a few blocks from Yama's, and as far as I was concerned, everyone around me was a suspect in the bombing of Aizawa's car, but the punk wasn't tall enough, and there was no way he could have hid his Mohawk under that hood.

Inside, a layer of peanut shells coated the concrete floor, the tables were piled high with trash and old dishes, and the heavy reek of smoke clouded the air. Everyone looked suspicious, and I had to remind myself a few times that I wasn't there to bust people.

Sayu and I sat down at the bar, under the close scrutiny of the muscle-bound, skin-head bartender.

"One beer, please," I said to him.

"Make that two," Sayu corrected, and I couldn't help looking at her in surprise.

"You drink beer?"

"Who doesn't drink beer, Matsuda-san?" She wiped the mouth of her bottle with her sleeve before she took a sip though.

"I just mean… You're really grown up…" For the first time I realized anyone who saw us out together would assume we were dating, and I couldn't help blushing just a little. Me? Dating the chief's little daughter…? I never would have thought I'd even be in a position where people might make that assumption.

I wondered what Aizawa and the others would think if they saw me with Sayu Yagami like this. After what I did to her brother…

I pushed that away. I couldn't think about it right now.

Sayu glanced around casually, sipping now and then from her beer, but she kept making a face like she didn't enjoy the taste. When the bartender had gotten out of earshot, she whispered, "I see him. He's in the corner."

Trying to be nonchalant, I chanced a glance at the other customers. They were all typical thug-type guys I'd probably be arresting on a normal day, wearing gang symbols on their clothes or tattooed on their arms and chests. Most of them had ridiculous amounts of metal in their faces, and I realized I stuck out really bad.

"I don't see him."

"He's got braided hair," she said.

I noticed him then. His hair was down to his waist, with a number of tiny braids and colorful beads decorating it, but his eyes were dead, and he wore a nasty grin at all times.

The guy with him wasn't much better. He was a total yankee, with bleached hair and no eyebrows. He frowned and snarled like he was angry, and he kept pounding his fist on the table.

I'd rather not talk to either of them.

But I'd be dumb to not investigate more about the shotgun, so I left my drink and walked over to them, trying not to look too much like a straight-shooter.

"I'll wait here," Sayu told me quietly. I could tell she didn't want to, but it would be safer for her, in case I screwed this up.

What should I say anyway? Approaching the issue of the shotgun, let alone finding out where it was would be challenging enough without them realizing something was up. I was already out of place, and they might blow me off immediately. I couldn't think of a single reason for them to even talk to me long enough for me to ask about the shotgun. Everyone in the bar must know I was a cop just by the way I looked.

As I neared their table, they noticed me. The blonde guy looked more annoyed than ever, but his friend seemed interested. I could see now what Sayu meant about

his nose and ears—the nose was square-shaped, like somebody mounted a rectangle on his face, and his ears were tiny and very round. It looked like he'd once had one of those huge plugs in his right ear, but somebody must have ripped it out, leaving the earlobe ragged and scarred.

 _She could have described_ that _to me and I would have found him._

Then again, she was Light's sister. She must know how to play things close to the chest.

 _She shouldn't be here with me…_

I shouldn't really be here like this either.

Struggling to breathe normally, I stopped at their table. "Hey, guys."

 _I've got to think of something right now._

The blonde guy glared up at me. "What the hell do you want?"

His friend drawled, "Can I help you, sweet heart?" Despite his rough appearance, there was a feminine lilt to his voice.

I frowned, trying to sound gruff. "Actually, I came to help _you_." And I reached into my jacket pocket.

His friend lurched back, like I was going to draw down on him, but the man with the braids grinned. "I was hoping you'd say that. What's your name, pretty boy?"

It caught me so off guard, I blurted out, "Taro Matsui."

"Taro," he crooned. "I like it. What're you here to sell tonight, kiddo?" His gaze slid suggestively over my body.

Trying to stay cool, I pulled my gun halfway out, careful to hide it from the other patrons. "I heard you might be interested in buying this."

A disappointed look crossed his face, and he glanced at his friend with a sad smile. "What is it with hotties trying to sell me guns today?"

His friend scowled suspiciously. "Are you out of your mind?" he snapped. "Walking in here with something like _that_."

"I, um…" I tried to think of some plausible excuse. "I heard this was the place to come."

"That looks like a policeman's pistol. You a cop?"

"No! No way. I—"

"Yakuza then? Those are the only options, dumb shit."

"C'mon, Bushu," the other guy sighed. "Give him a break." His eyes roamed from my face down the length of my torso again. "It's obvious he's not either of those things. Still, it's weird. You're the second babe to try and sell me an illegal weapon today."

As he undressed me with his eyes, I clenched my fist in my pocket and took a deep breath.

"I like you a little better," he decided.

"What was the other guy selling?" I wondered.

I had to wait for him to take a hit of whiskey straight from the bottle. "Oh, some American shotgun."

Wow, I got that out of him easily. For the first time, I realized it didn't hurt that he thought I was cute, so I tried to turn on the charm. "Really? That's incredible! I've been looking for a shotgun myself."

Bushu hissed, "Keep it down there, Mr. Wonderful. You want the whole bar to know?"

"Oh?" I glanced over my shoulder. A few people stared back at me, but most of them minded their own business. Sayu watched over her shoulder. "But… I heard this is the place for this kinda…business."

"Even if it is, who told you to come talk to us?" I didn't like the blonde guy at all. He had a scratchy voice and a threatening tone.

"C'mon, Bushu," his friend scolded. "Don't give him a hard time."

"Why, just because _you_ wanna get in his pants, Koli? Clean cut kid like this's gotta be a cop."

I was still wincing over the idea of Koli wanting to get in my pants, but I made myself say, "No way, I'm not! I promise. I mean… Do I really _look_ like a cop?"

Koli batted his eyes at me. "'Course not, sweetie. Bushu's an asshole. Here, have a seat." He patted his lap.

Pretending not to notice, I plopped into the chair next to him and grinned. "Thanks. I'd like to hear more about the…" I glanced around, and then whispered, "Shotgun."

Koli looked disappointed. I could hardly believe he'd actually expected me to sit in his lap. "It was a nice gun," he admitted. "But I don't need any trouble like that—I don't have guts like you do."

"He must have wanted a lot." I looked down at my pistol. "I wonder if he'd be willing to trade."

"Yeah, well, he might not want a gun at all."

"Yeah," I laughed. "One of those…anti-gun people…"

Bushu gave me a suspicious look. "Having a gun in Japan is _stupid._ But you know that, don't you, _satsu_?"

"For the last time," I sniffed, "I'm not a cop."

"Of course not." Koli smiled. "I can get you in touch with him, if you want.'

It was hard not to get too excited—this was working out extremely well. "Oh, nah. I wouldn't want to trouble you."

"Honey, it's no trouble at all." Koli dug through his pockets until he found a business card. He laid it down on the table. "He hangs out at this place a lot. You can probably catch him there tomorrow night, or Saturday—that's the only way I know to find him."

I stared down at the card, surprised to see that it was Yama's business card. Was the shooter really that careless?

"So…" I said slowly. "You know this guy?"

Boomingly, Koli laughed. "C'mon, really, kiddo? Nobody just wanders up to a stranger and offers to sell them a gun!"

"Except _you_ ," Bushu pointed out.

"Anyway." Koli tapped a ragged fingernail to the business card. "Our friend's name is written on the back; if you go in and ask for him, you might at least find a way to get in touch with him."

"Wow, thanks a lot!" I stood up, reaching for the business card and feeling genuinely excited for the first time in more than a month. Who would have thought being attractive would come in handy at a time like this?

Koli's bony hand clamped around my wrist, jerking me closer to his nasty-smiling mouth, where the reek of whiskey lingered. "Why not stick around a while, Taro-chan? Have a drink with us."

By the time I found my tongue, my tone had turned flat. "N-no thanks… I better get going…"

"C'mon, after the way I just helped you out?"

I tried to laugh. "I mean, yeah…you helped a lot…"

"The least you could do is let me buy you a drink. What's your poison?"

I tried to pull out of his grip, but it was like iron. Slowly, I sank back into my chair, feeling stupid. "Just beer…"

"Have some whiskey. C'mon, it'll be fun, I promise."

Damn. How did I always manage to get myself into these weird situations? Nervously, I smiled. "It's really nice of you to offer, but I don't have a lot of time."

"Don't worry about the time. It's good whiskey." He poured a shot into his dirty glass and thrust it toward me.

"I have to drive," I protested.

Koli chuckled. "Don't worry about that either. Have a few shots. You'll be on your knees in the toilet with me before you're behind the wheel of a car—I'm a genius at hooking straight boys."

"That's true," Bushu snorted. "Once he gets his cock up in you, you'll never go back to gash, that's for sure." And then his smile stretched, turning malicious. "Assuming you live long after that."

My heart hammered. "Look." I got up, trying to sound firm. "You helped with the connection, but I'm not—"

Koli seized the front of my shirt, yanking me forward again. "You ain't listening, sweetie. Siddown and have a drink with us."

I was really freaking out now. One wrong move could blow my cover, and something told me that would get me killed. Should I really sit down and have a drink? Maybe if I did what he wanted, he'd let me go in a little bit.

What Bushu said, though, made me feel like I might actually be in danger, and I should definitely leave.

"C'mon, babe," Koli insisted, touching me sensuously on the stomach. "You owe me."

There was something really messed up about him. That nasty smile hinted at a violent nature, and I was almost a little scared of what he'd do if I _didn't_ have a drink with them. I took a look around at the other customers, but they were all ignoring us. I didn't see Sayu anywhere.

One last time, I pushed Koli's hand off. "I said I'm not interested. You gave me the lead, now—"

He got to his feet, that terrible smile transforming into a hideous snarl. He was almost a head taller than me. "You wanna play hard to get? That's fine. C'mon, Bushu, let's take him somewhere a more private."

Bushu got up and snagged my arm.

Koli loomed over me, grinning again. "Keep my name in mind, 'cause you're gonna be screamin' it."

"Get off!" I cocked back to take a swing at him. Even if it got me killed, I was going to bust his teeth out.

Behind me, a shrill voice cried out, "Matsu! What the hell are you doing?"

I whipped around to see Sayu stomping up to me. She'd put her hair down and she was suddenly wearing make up. Her sweatshirt was bundled up in her arms, and the shirt she wore was unbuttoned halfway down her chest. "I've been waiting on you forever! Now I find you starting bar fights? You're supposed to be showing me around town!"

She almost sounded like Misa-Misa, and her eyes blazed as she strode over and hooked her arm around my neck, like Koli and Bushu weren't both holding onto me, giving them each a critical look. "Who're these guys? You're supposed to be paying attention to _me_."

Shocked, I stammered, "S-sorry…Sayu..."

Koli let go of me suddenly, muttering under his breath, and Bushu released my arm.

Immediately, I snatched the business card off the table and took a step back.

"Ah, whatever," Koli grumbled, sitting down again. "Just beat it and don't come back. I hate thinking about things I couldn't have." He glared at Sayu. "Beat him up for me later, honey. Tie him to the bed or something so he has to think about what I almost did to his tight ass."

Sayu stuck her tongue out at him. "Gross. You better watch the way you talk to me—my dad's an NPA director."

Bushu jerked. "You're lying!"

"C'mon, Sayu." I grabbed her hand, pulling her with me.

 _What a shitty day,_ I thought as we hurried back across the street, still holding hands. _First the car bomb, now_ that _._

It was good Sayu came along. Getting in a fight would have definitely blown my cover.

Sighing, she finally let go of me. "You're pretty careless, Matsuda-san."

"What?" I gave her a questioning look. "I just went and asked him about the shotgun. I had no idea he was going to get all crazy on me."

"No, but do you think Aizawa-san would have done it that way?"

I tried to think about what Aizawa would have done. No, he definitely wouldn't have wound up in _that_ kind of situation. For one thing, he commanded some respect from other people, and I didn't seem to. For another…

 _He never would have sat down with them. He never would have gotten so friendly with them. He would have found out what he needed to know and then left right away._

Why did I have to be so dumb?

"Anyway," she asked. "Did you get it?"

"I got a name and a place to start. Nothing definite."

"Not bad, though. Let's get out of here before they come after us."

Once we were in the car, I felt a little better, but I still took a second to clear my head. Apparently the existence of Kira hadn't abolished the existence of scum.

"What time is it?" I asked, massaging my forehead.

"Don't you have a phone?"

"Oh…" I fumbled with my phone, looking in dismay at the shattered screen. "Yeah." I wondered suddenly if I should tell her I was in the car bombing. No, that would just upset her.

She shot me a smile though, and I couldn't help staring at her. With her hair down and her face made up, she was really pretty. "Almost twelve. Do you wanna go check the other place out?"

I looked at the business card I'd gotten from Koli. The handwriting on the back was sloppy, but it looked like it said Miyami. Maybe it _would_ be smart to head back over there and check around. That bartender though, he'd recognize me, wouldn't he? He'd know I was a cop.

 _I'm so tired…_

Suddenly, this felt like the longest day I'd ever lived.

"Not tonight," I decided. "Tomorrow, maybe."

Nodding, she asked, "So…you're gonna ditch me, huh?"

Not sure what to say, I turned to study her, and she looked back at me unflinchingly. She'd been a good partner in there, as it turned out. She had found the right guy, and she'd come up with a quick, non-violent way to get me out of a freaky situation. She was capable, smart, creative, and brave, just like Light.

"No," I decided, against my better judgment. "I won't ditch you."

Her eyes lit up a bit, but she said, "You'd better not. I'll be expecting you to pick me up at nine."

Sighing, I started the car. I was being dumb to let her get more and more involved with this, and I _should_ take what I knew to the station tomorrow and tell the others about it.

"Just because I'm not going to ditch you doesn't mean I think you should go," I told her. "This is dangerous."

Flippantly, she replied, "I'll be fine as long as I stick with you, Mr. NPA. Besides, if I hadn't been here tonight, who knows where you'd be right now?"

I glared at her. "I'd be right here in this car. I wasn't gonna let that freak do anything to me."

"You'd _probably_ be on your way downtown to get booked."

I glanced at her, wondering if she was teasing.

"Obviously you need somebody to watch your back, and since you've gotta prove yourself to Aizawa, why not me?"

"I never said I'm trying to prove myself to Aizawa," I objected.

Sayu hesitated before murmuring, "I know."

"I do, though," I told her inexplicably. "I… _really_ need to prove myself to Aizawa."

She looked at me in surprise. "Why? What does it matter what Aizawa thinks?"

"Aizawa- _san_ ," I corrected a little impatiently. I didn't feel quite myself, so unnerved and high-strung.

Again, Sayu stayed quiet a second before saying, "I see. You think he doesn't respect you."

Apparently, it was obvious. "He… No. I doubt he does."

"What about the others? Ide-san and Mogi-san?"

"I don't know…" Ide and Mogi weren't on my case all the time at least. "Look, it's not a big deal. It's just that lately…I haven't really been myself, and Aizawa's been worried. It's not a matter of respect; I just want to show him I can take care of myself."

"I understand," she murmured after a pause. "I know what it's like to feel like you're not as capable as someone else, and to want to prove to everyone that you are. Ever since Light…died…I feel like I'm trying to make up for all that. I want my mom to believe I can handle everything just as well as he'd be able to. I don't want her to worry. I know though… I'm the girl. I'm the youngest. As if that's not bad enough, after I was kidnapped, I was so incapable for a while…" She shook her head, trying to clear off bad memories. "I just don't want Mom to think she has to take care of me."

It was almost exactly what I thought. I took my eyes off the road a long moment to study her, and she looked up at me through her eyelashes.

"The thing is," she went on, even quieter. "I know that Mom has good reason to worry about me, and I know that I'm _not_ Light. I know that she wants to protect me because I'm all she has left, and I know by going around behind her back like this, I'm jeopardizing that.'

Again, she'd hit the nail on the head. I wondered how we could feel so similarly.

"Maybe," she whispered, "it _would_ be best if I stopped this, and you told Aizawa what you found out tonight. Everyone would be angry with us for a second, but maybe they'd just be glad we told them the truth. Maybe they're so worried about us, they'd just let it slide."

"Maybe," I agreed. "But then they might never believe we _are_ capable of taking care of ourselves."

"How important is that? Really."

"It matters a lot to me right now," I admitted.

"Yeah. It matters a lot to me too. It's almost like something I have to do for myself. You know?"

"Yeah. I know."

"It feels better than lying at home all day, missing them."

 _Better than thinking over and over about how I killed Light…_

"We won't do anything reckless," I told her suddenly. "We'll be careful."

Intently, Sayu studied me.

I turned to look into her eyes, memorizing the delicate placement of her features.

"We'll find out who tried to sell the shotgun to Koli, and _then_ I'll tell Aizawa the truth. That way, at least if it's not connected to the case, he'll never have to know."

"All right," she agreed. "Deal."

I pulled up in front of her house. It was lit up warmly, waiting patiently for her, and I was surprised Sachiko hadn't called her yet. Sayu must have thought of a really good excuse to tell her.

Again, I turned to her, and this time I thought I saw a ghostly look on her face, like she was just a phantom of the girl she'd been before tragedy fell on her family. I noticed the brokenness in her eyes, and sometimes her voice sounded hollow. I wondered if that's what the others saw when they looked at me: a ghost Matsuda.

Sayu stared at her house a moment. "You spent a lot of time with my father, Matsuda-san."

"I guess I did." I had gotten weirdly attached to the chief. I'd never been close to my father. He'd hit my mom too much, and even though I was his only son, it seemed like he'd always been disappointed in me. I had admired Soichiro though, and at times, as much as I was embarrassed to admit it, I had wished he were my real father.

"Do you miss him?" she asked, voice barely audible.

"Yes." I nodded slowly. "He was a good man."

"He really was. Matsuda?"

Reluctantly, I met her gaze, surprised to see her smiling again.

"You know… You remind me of him."

"Me? I remind you of the _chief_?" It didn't seem possible. He'd been everything I could never be.

With a sigh, she leaned back to look up at the stars through my sun roof. "Well, I guess you don't have much in common. But…Daddy always wanted to do the right thing, no matter the cost, and that's why he stayed on the Kira case. He knew he was fighting for a greater cause. He was… _noble._ "

I found myself looking up at the stars too, and I couldn't deny that Soichiro Yagami had been as noble as his son had been villainous.

For a while, we sat there together, both looking at the same stars and thinking about the same man, maybe even having some of the same memories, like the NPA company picnic from a few years ago, or one of the times I'd come to the chief's house with him. And yet I knew my memories of the chief, unfair as it was, would always be more magnificent than hers.

"I see some of that in you," she explained. "I think you're braver than you realize."

It sounded so much like the flattery Light used to use. I could remember times when he'd told me I was a better cop than I knew, and that I didn't give myself enough credit, but now I knew he'd said things like that so he could go on with his quest to conquer the world.

Sayu wasn't like that though. Her expression was too sincere, much more like Soichiro's than Light's.

As I looked at her, a tear slipped down her cheek, and I fought the urge to dry it away. "I'm grateful you stood by my father to the very end."

That was just my duty. Supporting his decisions, doing whatever he needed me to do… I hadn't even thought of myself as his friend, even though I knew he'd been mine.

Her cool fingers brushed my cheek, and for the first time I realized I was crying too. I should have felt humiliated, I thought. I didn't have any right to get all emotional in front of her—she'd lost a vital part of her life, and I hadn't—but it felt safe to be open.

Without warning, she leaned over and hugged me around the neck, and I smelled her hair and her perfume and felt her, warm against my body.

"I don't want to see any more good men die," she whispered.

Before I could even think to hug her back, she let go of me and opened the car door, voice heavy. "Good night, Matsuda-san."

Somewhat intoxicated by her, I scrambled to stop the door, blurting out, "Thanks. Thanks for helping me."

Sadly, she smiled. "You're welcome. We make a good team, don't we?"

"Yeah… You were great."

"Well then." She gave me a dismal excuse for a thumbs up. "See you tomorrow, partner."

With one last smile, she closed the door and went up to her house. In another moment, she disappeared inside, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

 _It's not my fault_ , I reminded myself.

 _Everything…is_ someone's _fault…isn't it?_

 _But I didn't kill Light._

 _No, but you trusted him. You_ shot _him._

I'd been fighting, earnestly, for justice, but it seemed like I'd only destroyed lives—Sayu's, Sachiko's… _Misa's_ —sometimes it felt as though I'd destroyed _myself_ that day. And when I shot him, that wasn't about justice, not so much as it was over my own anger and hurt, because I'd been made a fool of, just like Soichiro, Misa, and Takada.

As fools, they'd died, and if this new perpetrator got what he wanted, I would also.


	6. Chapter 6

**Part Two**

 _It comes in waves I close my eyes_

 _Hold my breath and let it bury me_

 _I'm not okay, and it's not all right_

 _Won't you drag the lake and bring me home again?_

 _Who will fix me now?_

 _Drive in when I'm down_

 _Save me from myself_

* * *

 **Aizawa**

 **-Day One-**

* * *

Rubbing the bridge of my nose and grumbling, I grudgingly crossed the street to the vending machine.

My day had started by addressing the rest of our precinct, explaining the true nature of the case, including the perpetrators' demands, but my fellow officers took it even worse than I'd expected. In fact, many of them acted like they would rather hand one of us over than support our investigation, Commissioner Oshima had done a terrible job maintaining order, and in the end, the only thing that had kept them from dragging us all out of the conference room by our necks was the fact that people like Captain Okoshi and Karisa Yoko were standing beside us.

Anyway, it bought us some time, but after a long day of non-stop investigating, everyone was hungry and cranky, and Kei was already trying to organize a trip to the nearest bar, but I couldn't let anyone go yet.

Forensics had finally come back with a report from the upper room at Yama's bar, and now we at least had a lead—they'd found traces of blood belonging to a man named Nishi Yamaguchi, and finding out what happened to him, I hoped, would be our first step in unraveling this mystery.

Sighing, I stopped in front of the machine. Like everything else around me these days, it appeared neglected and all but forgotten, its weak lights flickered in the twilight, and most of the items were out of stock.

I stared at it a while, trying to decide what to do.

Originally, I'd meant to slip out quietly for coffee, but when my team found out what I was doing, half of them had something they wanted me to bring back, which meant visiting every machine in and around the station and eventually crossing the street to this one. Now it looked like I couldn't get most of it anyway.

 _Not my fault._

And yet, I was the one who'd taken the initiative; I was the one who had to go back and disappoint them.

 _Should have sent young blood to do it; like Matsuda and Kei._

Those two had a noticeably difficult time sitting still and analyzing facts for long periods of time. Sending them to the nearest convenience store might have at least spared us the noise Ide had been complaining about all day.

Of course, I remembered a time when he'd been that way too, amped up and scrappy, all too eager to punch perps in the face and arrest suspects without substantial evidence, but I'd kept him in line. I'd saved his job, and my own, ten times over again.

 _What for? So we can work this last, dead-end case together and then go down in shame?_

I didn't want to take Ide down with, but I wasn't sure how to keep that from happening, other than to solve the case immediately.

After looking all day into the seven victims' families, we didn't seem to be making any progress at all, as if those five men at the hotel had been rounded up at random and killed for no reason; through DNA analysis and dental records, we'd managed to identify some of them, but all we'd learned was that every one of them had a mild criminal record, and there was no telling what they'd even been doing at the hotel.

We'd gotten the security footage, but it was just as disappointing as my interview with the hotel manager. Five men went in. None of them came out. The man who'd climbed to the roof seemed to have vanished altogether, but that might simply mean he'd had help on the inside.

Even if the killer started plotting the very day we announced Kira's death, this was a lot more elaborate than an average shooting. The perp got away clean.

On the other hand, the ex NPA officers who'd died in the alley yesterday morning were old-timers, and looking over their file made me think of Ide and I too. On the force together for almost thirty years, maybe they'd been wild once too. Maybe one of them was always slamming doors and coming in hung over. Maybe the other settled down as fast as he could and never learned how to balance work and family. Maybe they got old together like that, and the door slamming suddenly faded into easygoing words spoken around cigarette smoke and objective opinions that made even the biggest mountains look like a molehill. And maybe the guy who'd started out so sure of himself had learned he didn't know a damn thing after all, and finally, after so long, was just hoping against hope his partner knew more than he'd ever given him credit for.

They'd gotten bored after the world peace that Kira provided started, and I saw that in us as well—trying to make the world a safer place without ever thinking of how dull it would be to actually achieve it. They'd taken an early retirement to enjoy their very last leg of youth. They weren't the type of guys I'd expect to go late-night partying, and they didn't have any past association with that bar, and yet they'd gotten drunk there and left late. They'd gotten killed right outside.

Possibly, someone had met them there, set them up.

It could be another cop was behind all this. A fellow officer would have the skill, the access to the weapons, the connections, and everything else he'd need, and after my meeting today, it was easier than ever to believe that a fellow officer might be working against us. In fact, I'd seen it clearer than ever that they hated us.

Well, not all of them. There was at least one guy—Lieutenant Shinda—who'd been in the academy with Ide and I and didn't act like he wanted to betray us. There could be others. Or maybe I didn't want to believe we'd lose all our allies.

Broodingly, I glared at the vending machine. _Is that's what's going to happen to Hideki and me after all this time? Wander into an alley we thought was safe and get our heads blown off by someone we_ thought _we could trust?_

Blood boiling, I crumpled the bills in my hand. _Not us. I will not let that happen._

I stepped closer to the machine. Someone had come up to breathe on my neck, and just before I could turn and tell him to back off, I felt the muzzle of a gun press against my spine. My words fell short, collapsing into an audible gasp.

"Good evening," a cool voice hissed. "Don't let on, just keep your hands where I can see them."

When I hesitated, he nudged me with the gun again.

Slowly, I lowered my handful of money to my side and slipped the other out of my pocket. Great. Here I'd been _thinking_ about getting a gun pulled on me and now it was happening.

The sun was setting, the street lights were coming on, and the sky was turning from orange to purple. No one around me had noticed what was happening, and soon enough it would be dark.

Hideki wasn't with me, and that was a big difference at least.

I tried to glance over my shoulder at the NPA headquarters, but I was well out of sight of the security cameras.

"What do you want?" I demanded, as coolly as possible, but the faces of my wife and kids flashed through my mind. "This would be a stupid place to kill me."

"There's someone who wants to meet you." Not bothering to frisk me, he took hold of my arm and led me up the street.

My mind began to race with possibilities. Failing to frisk me—my being armed at all—wouldn't matter so long as he kept the gun on me, but Ide _wasn't_ with me, and I'd been gone a long time. It was possible he'd come looking for me. It was even possible he'd seen me being taken away. If not him, someone else. The real question, was this guy dumb enough to let that happen?

Though I felt sure I'd heard it before, there was no placing his voice past the pounding of my heart and the violent flipping of my stomach. Even if I could, there'd be no point when this would likely end with him leading me into an alley and popping one off in my head.

I took a long glance at him from the corner of my eye. He wore sunglasses with a clean-shaven face, making it hard to pinpoint any details about him, and I thought about making a break for it. After all, being gutsy enough to have the gun and knowing how to use it were two totally different things.

As soon as I thought that, we stopped outside a restaurant just a little more than a block from the station, a fancy place called Kirei Kumotte. "This's outta my price range," I sneered.

"No one's asking you to buy anything." He opened the door for me, and I stepped inside.

The place was smaller than I remembered from the time I'd come here with Eriko and her parents. Damn, how many years ago was that? Yumi wasn't even born yet, so more than eleven. It was right after we were married, I thought. I remembered paying the whole tab to impress my new in-laws.

My escort pulled me past the hostess without a word. The hardwood floors were waxed to shine in the dimmest of lighting, and plush red drapes hung in the windows. Through them, I could see still see the station, haloed under the sunset.

Looking around the luxurious dining room, the memory came back a little more vividly. I picked out the table we'd sat at—a round one close to the fire place. It must have been a cold time of year. The crystal chandelier had seemed bigger back then also, and brighter.

Or maybe it was just like that because I was so in love with Eriko, so happy to be starting a family with her.

Now maybe I'd never see her again. She was still sleeping when I got up this morning, and that would make that conversation we had last night the final words I'd say to her.

 _How did things ever go so wrong between us? There was a time when having you at my side made me feel like I could take on the whole world._

No time to think about that.

I got a better look at my kidnapper now that we were inside. He was wearing all black with gloves, and the gun had returned to the pocket of his long coat. Still, he gestured for me to cross the room with him.

Dinner rush hadn't started yet, and nobody took any notice of us. My only hope was that another cop might have happened in, but as he escorted me to an empty booth in the way back, I didn't see anyone I knew.

"Have a seat, please," he said, gesturing to the bench facing away from the door.

Not knowing what else to do, I obeyed, and he sat down across from me, aiming the gun at me under the table.

Without a word, refusing to look at me, the waitress brought me a glass of water, and I tried to pick out any details about my kidnapper. Aside from a long, aquiline nose, there just wasn't much to him. "What did you bring me here for?"

Behind me, a rumbling voice chuckled, "You're my guest, Captain."

I twisted around in my seat, but he was sitting at the neighboring booth with his back to me, and there was no way for me to get a good look at him now. His voice was memorable at least, very deep and undulating with slyness, like he really thought the world of himself.

"Stay calm. It's Aizawa, isn't it?" He had an easygoing tone at least, not lined with the subtle threats I'd expect. Whoever he was, he already knew my rank and name.

Dammit. I wished I'd seen who was sitting there when we came in, but I'd been too distracted thinking about Eriko and looking for other officers.

"That's right," I agreed, uneasily.

"Care for a cigarette?" From the other side of the booth, a fat hand appeared, holding an expensive case of cigarettes made of real gold. I took one just because they made me think of Ide. God, what I wouldn't give to have him beside me now.

"I don't smoke," I told them darkly.

"No? Well, it's soothing anyway. It might help you relax."

The man across the table from me offered me a light, and I leaned forward to inhale a deep breath, recognizing quality tobacco through its smoothness and flavor.

"That's better isn't it? There's no reason to be alarmed."

"I think bringing me here at gunpoint is reason enough for me to feel alarmed."

"Perhaps so," he chuckled. "Still, keep your voice down about that, Captain. It would be better for the other patrons to remain ignorant to your situation."

I eyed the man across the table warily. Without seeing his eyes, it was tough to guess whether or not he'd have the stomach to kill me.

"Who are you?" I asked.

"I'm a friend. That's all you need to know."

"If that's true, tell me what it is you want."

"In time, Captain. First, you should know I've been watching you—oh, not a long time, but long enough. It's a stroke of luck to meet so early like this. We had thought we'd have to wait until you left work for the day, catch you on your way to your car."

Apparently he didn't know I didn't have a car at the moment, so he really couldn't have been watching me all that long.

"I guess I should thank you for the consideration," I sneered.

"No need. I understand this is inconvenient for you. If you want, we'll get straight to business."

"Yeah." I took another reluctant drag from the cigarette. It wasn't helping me calm down much, and I didn't believe for a second being in a public place could protect me. Not in these lawless times. "That'd be nice. I have work to do."

He took a long pause before proceeding, and I heard him light his own cigarette. "Well, now, Shuichi… Er, may I call you Shuichi?"

"No," I growled. "Of course not; who do you think you are? First you kidnap me, then you ask to use my first name?"

"Ah, that is rude. I should have asked to know your name first, isn't that right?"

I scowled, and he blathered on, unable to see my expression. "I didn't kidnap you anyway. Is that what you think? Come now, Shuichi, this is just a friendly chat."

I glared at the gunman. "It doesn't feel very friendly."

The man in the booth laughed, a guttural, sickening sound. "Well, perhaps not, but it isn't a kidnapping in any case. We just need to talk about this case you're working on."

Unnerved, but not surprised exactly, I glared back at him. "Do you have some information about it?"

"I wouldn't say that exactly, no."

I puffed the cigarette. "Then I can't discuss it with you."

He clicked his tongue. "Don't be so hasty, Shuichi."

"I told you not to call me that." Disrespectful sonnova bitch.

My phone went off suddenly, and the man across the table sat up straighter, watching me carefully. I dared to glance at it. Matsuda.

"Feel free to answer that," the man in the booth told me in a casual tone. "But please do be careful not to alert anyone to your situation. And be brief."

Putting the cigarette out in the ash tray, I slowly flipped my phone open and reminded myself not to use the kid's name. "Hey."

"Hey!" he practically shouted. "Where are my chips?"

Unsuccessfully, I tried to think of what I'd normally say, but I just muttered, "Oh. They're out…"

"No way! I was seriously craving those!"

"Sorry," I said faintly. "I looked all over. The world's just falling apart."

"Yeah, but—"

I heard Ide's voice snarl in the background, and again, I wished he were with me. "Forget your chips, Matsuda! Where's the Captain? That's what you called for!"

My heart lit up with a fleeting hope—he sounded worried. He must have some feeling that I was in trouble, and that meant…

 _Nothing. There's no way for him to find me right now._

In the booth behind me, the man breathed heavily, and the gunman kept his gaze and aim on me at all times.

"Ide wants to know where you are," Matsuda announced, sulkily. "He says it shouldn't take twenty minutes to go to the vending machine."

"I'm just…" I tried to think of something good to tell him, half expecting more instructions from the man in the booth. "Clearing my head."

He paused, obviously not knowing what to say next. "Are you coming back soon?"

I heard Ide hiss, "Tell him to hurry."

"Ide wants you to come back now."

"Why didn't Ide just escort me out here?" I growled, suddenly, and the gunman sat up straighter in his booth. "If he's so damn worried about it."

"I don't know," Matsuda said blankly, and slowly, probably catching on that things were not actually all right. "There's a cop killer out there, though. Maybe it is a bad idea to—"

"All right," I agreed. The gunman was waving his hand, motioning for me to wrap it up. "I'll be there soon."

"Aizawa," Matsuda insisted, in an edgy tone uncharacteristic of him. "Is everything okay?"

"I have to go. I'm heading back now, so tell Ide to relax."

Dammit. I'd stupidly blurted out Ide's name instead of his.

"Okay. But—"

"See you soon." I hung up again and turned my phone on silent with shaking hands.

A moment passed before the man in the booth continued in a placid tone. "As I was saying, I understand your reluctance to discuss the case, but don't worry. I'm not interested in any details. You are leading the investigation, are you not?"

At first, I'd thought this could be another thing that was happening to me simply because I'd taken the initiative to head to the vending machine, but if they'd been planning to ambush me after work, and they knew I was heading the investigation, they must have a specific reason to want to talk to me, and me alone. For all I knew, that was keeping me alive right now, so I said nothing.

After waiting a moment, he said, "I don't mean any harm by asking; I just want to make sure I'm speaking to the right man."

Still, I knew better than to answer.

"Well." He blew a thick cloud of smoke up over his head. "It doesn't matter so much. I know well enough that you are."

The sly, provocative way he said it reminded me suddenly of my debriefing, of Commissioner Oshima standing over me, smiling. _"You shot Kira yourself, didn't you? Come now, Shuichi, I know you did."_

Nerves nearly shot, I snapped, "If you're going to kill me then do it!"

I thought maybe he'd be angry over my outburst, but no one in the dining room seemed to notice it, and he went on coolly, while I listened intently to the sound of his voice, trying to get a better idea of who I was dealing with.

"My dear detective, I don't want to kill you. No, no, quite the opposite. I want to help you."

"Help me what?" I sneered.

At a snap of his fingers, the man at the table with me suddenly produced a mailing envelope, fat with cash. He laid it out on the table for me to see.

I glanced around the restaurant again before leaning in to examine it. "What's this?"

The man in the booth whispered, "It's a million yen, Shuichi. One. Million. Yen."

I stared at the envelope, tempted to pick it up and count it, but I didn't dare touch it.

"It's for you, if you like, only you have to do me a tiny, little favor."

Of course. "What's that?" I grunted.

"A simple thing, I assure you. Just back off on this case."

Out of reaction, I whipped around again, really wishing I could see his expression, to know whether or not he was messing with me. "Excuse me?"

"That's not hard, right? I'm not even asking you to stop investigating altogether. Just cool off with it a little. Don't take it so seriously."

Who the hell was I talking to? The mastermind behind this crime wouldn't come trying to pay me off just a day after giving us that ultimatum.

"I can't do that," I told him.

"There's plenty more where that came from," he said like I hadn't spoke. "One million now, maybe another million later, if you do a good job."

Enraged, I told him, "I have a duty. Not just to the victims and the public—what would I tell my men?"

"What does it matter? You'd walk away with two million yen. Think what you could do for your children."

A bit panicked, I demanded, "What the hell do you know about me and my family?"

"Enough to know you could use two million yen."

In a few more years, Yumi would be off to college…

"Either way, I won't be bribed by you—or threatened." I leveled a warning look on the man across the table, but he just shot me a smug grin.

Again, the man in the booth laughed. "Where do these imagined threats keep coming from? I haven't threatened so much as one hair on your head."

I continued glaring across the table at the man with the gun. "I feel threatened."

His boss sighed, finally sounding a touch impatient. "Shuichi, this man is necessary for my protection."

"So _you_ feel threatened?" Knowing better than to touch it, I thought of my gun, but even if I had the opportunity to shoot this man, I didn't know if that would be wise. Shooting his bodyguard, though, I just needed a window for that.

"Don't you see I'm offering you the chance of a lifetime? Two million yen just to do a poor job on an investigation. It's more than you'll make doing an excellent job on three investigations, am I right?"

If I did a good job, I might get the position as chief. Possibly. If I failed, though, I might not ever be able to repair my career at all. Two million yen could change all that.

"It doesn't matter. I won't do it."

He spat, sounding disgusted, "Why are you so intent on cracking this case in the first place? Kira is justice—he'll punish this killer, not you—so you may as well take my two million yen and sit back with your feet up for a while." When he was done, I heard him wheezing a little, and I was starting to get the impression that he was somewhat overweight, and probably older than me.

"Kira is dead, and he was never justice."

"That isn't what I keep hearing. Kira lives; that's what they say, don't they? These people you're hunting?"

I grated out, "What do you know about that?"

He lit another cigarette, taking a deep drag. "Not a thing. I prefer to keep it that way, and if I were you, I should like to do the same. You're going to get killed, Shuichi."

I stood up. "That is a threat."

Before I could glimpse his face, his man scrambled to grab me by the arm.

"Not by me, you stubborn fool."

"Right, so you're doing this out of the goodness of your heart."

"I don't think you realize what you're turning down. You'd rather die than have two million yen?"

"Look, if you're not gonna kidnap me and you're not gonna kill me, can I leave? I have a lot of work do."

"Fine." The man in the booth heaved an exasperated breath. "Take him out through the back door." One chubby hand waved toward the hall leading to the kitchen. "Captain, it's been a pleasure. I only hope you survive long enough for us to meet again."

"Same here," I snorted, and his man pulled me away roughly, shoving me toward the back door.

We went quickly down the hall, past the staff members coming and going out of the kitchen. Some of them glanced at us, but they had nothing to say.

I watched anxiously as we drew closer to the door leading out into the alley, struggling to think of a way to get the gun away from him, but he still kept it tucked deep in the pocket of his coat. If he did have the guts to kill me in a place like this, there would be no stopping him. If he didn't, he could just as easily march me along to a more secluded spot and do it there.

The man threw the door open, and I held my breath, thinking I should at least try to do... _something._

He thrust me forward suddenly, all but throwing me out into the alley, and I stumbled forward, arms whirling as I fought to catch my balance. As soon as I had, I whipped around, staring at him, mouth dropping open to tell him to hold his fire, one hand on my pistol.

"Go back to work," he told me coldly. "But keep the boss's generous offer in mind. You're in a dangerous position, Shuichi Aizawa."

With that, he turned away. The door closed, and he strode back up the hall and into the dining room.

Panting, I leaned back against the wall of the alley, astonished he hadn't tried to kill me, relieved to know I got to go home after all and see my family.

 _Now's my chance—charge back in there and see exactly who I'm dealing with._

But no. That might only start a fire fight and endanger civilians. It wouldn't get me any answers. I should just be grateful I got the opportunity to see my wife and kids again.

 _Shouldn't tell Eriko about this_ , I said to myself. And then I straightened my tie, dusted myself off, and walked back to the station, still shaking.

* * *

 **Mogi**

* * *

I watched Aizawa pace agitatedly around the conference room, chomping ferociously at his own thumb. Since returning from the vending machine, he hadn't been still for more than a few seconds at a time.

Breathlessly and wide-eyed, he'd explained what had happened, how some thug had approached him, brandishing a gun, and the bizarre conversation that followed at the restaurant down the street. Ide and Matsuda had both tried to get him to sit down and compose himself, but he didn't seem to hear a word anyone said.

Obviously incensed, he'd come into this conference room to get his head together, and I suspected he didn't want Okoshi or the others to see him in such a frazzled state. At the moment, Ide and I were the only ones with him.

"It doesn't make any sense," he said for the umpteenth time. "Why would anyone try to bribe me off the case?"

"Well," Ide answered carefully, "if the lead detective does a poor job, the investigation won't get very far."

"I know that," Aizawa snarled, turning on him. "Don't you think I know _that_? That isn't what I mean!"

"All right, Shuichi," Ide said, even more cautiously. "All right. Relax."

"Relax!" Aizawa spat, going back to pacing. "Hideki says _relax_."

Ide and I exchanged a look. The concern was clear in his gray eyes and even the set of his angular jaw, and I felt it too.

Though I understood the sentiment that had led the others to elect Aizawa to lead us in this case, I wished I had been a part of that decision. I would have at least suggested other possibilities. Ide, of course, was highly impressed with Aizawa as an officer, and as for Matsuda, Aizawa threw his weight around to a point that it made sense for him to latch onto the idea of him being our lead investigator. The fact that he was close to being made chief contributed to the choice as well.

On the other hand, I just wasn't sure Aizawa was ready to be in charge of a case disturbing case like this one, and I found it suspicious he was being allowed to run it, particularly after the way the director and the commissioner had treated him at the end of January.

Regardless of how good his reasons had been to refuse to answer their questions, he _had_ openly defied the orders of his superiors, and the reality was they could have incarcerated him outright for that. In fact, they probably would have, eventually, if he hadn't adhered so relentlessly to his lies and Near hadn't gotten involved.

Of course, Aizawa knew that, so he must also know that any mistake he made now could sink him entirely. It was a tight line he walked, with the promotion on one side, and utter disgrace on the other.

According to Matsuda, Aizawa had originally nominated Captain Okoshi to be in charge of the investigation, and that seemed like a good choice to me. He was older, more experienced, and had already shown an objective discretion in this case the four of us lacked, so, had I been present, I would have seconded the motion and at least _tried_ to put Okoshi in charge over Aizawa, if only to try to protect him.

I'd say the way he was reacting to his experience outside was yet another indication of why he shouldn't be in charge. It wasn't like him to be rattled so easily.

From Ide's concerned expression, I gathered he thought the same thing, and he, better than anyone, must know, intimately, the details of Aizawa's emotional and mental condition.

"They didn't try to hurt you," he pointed out.

"They had a gun on me the whole time!" Aizawa snarled.

"Yes, but it doesn't sound like they were interested in killing you."

"That's the part that doesn't make any sense. Whoever we've been dealing with is threatening to kill everyone associated with the NPA—the MO doesn't match up at all."

I watched him nervously. In this state, he seemed likely to fly off the handle.

"It could be he doesn't have anything to do with the killer," Ide told him, still keeping quiet.

"So why would he try to _buy_ me off? It doesn't make sense! If he didn't want me to investigate at all he could have killed me!"

"Maybe he's just an interested party. For all we know he's got a bet on it or something—you made it sound like he's a pretty high roller."

"That doesn't make sense either. That wasn't how he made it seem. Why march me in there at gunpoint if that's all it was? Why hide like that?"

A bit uncertain about saying anything to him, I cleared my throat. "Possibly, there's something he doesn't want us to find while we're investigating the case."

Aizawa jerked to a stop and actually stood still for more than ten seconds, and even took the tip of his thumb out of his teeth. "Like what?"

"That makes sense," Ide agreed immediately, probably more interested in calming Aizawa down than anything. "It sounds like he doesn't care if the case is solved or not, but maybe there's something he doesn't want us to find along the way."

"Like _what_?"

"He could be an arms dealer," I supplied quickly.

"That makes sense," Ide repeated. "You know how the black arms gig goes, Shuichi. He could have sold those guns to someone, not knowing what they were going to do, and next thing he knows he's up to his neck in a cop killing spree."

Slowly, Aizawa turned to look back at us, forehead still wrinkled in tell tale frustration, but looking somewhat calmer. "That makes him an important part of the case—if we could question him and find out who he sold the guns to, we'd know who's behind this terrorist threat."

"Maybe," I agreed, tentatively.

At that, Aizawa exploded. "Dammit! I let a huge lead slip through my fingers!"

More agitated than ever, he returned to pacing, with a vengeance, muttering interminably under his breath.

Ide and I exchanged another look.

"There's nothing you could have done, Shuichi," Ide told him soothingly. "It's more important that you got out of there alive."

"And we don't know if he's an arms dealer," I reminded him. "It was a hypothetical suggestion."

Still, Aizawa grumbled to himself. He blurted out suddenly, "That guy he had with him… I know I've seen him somewhere before. I almost recognized his voice. If I could just figure out where, maybe we'd get somewhere."

"Then maybe you should sit down with a sketch artist."

"No, no." Aizawa shook his head, biting his thumb again. "I couldn't see enough of his face. It wouldn't do any good. He had those damn glasses. He was just so fucking nondescript. He was perfect. I mean, it took balls to get right in my face like that. Crafty son of a bitch."

In a moment, Ide suggested, "Well, try to calm down. There's nothing we can do about it right now."

Aizawa jammed his fingers through his hair. "This fucking case. This fucking case. What the hell is it about?"

"Calm down," Ide said again. "We'll figure it out."

After stomping around another moment or two, Aizawa finally went to stand by the window, resting his arm against the wall and leaning his head on it to stare out at the vibrant city.

The room stayed silent a while. I didn't like the direction this case was going. Matsuda got himself mixed up in a carjacking yesterday. Today, Aizawa could have been shot. Not to mention the less than amicable way most of our coworkers had reacted to our meeting this morning. It seemed more and more that we were surrounded by enemies, without many allies to turn to.

"Did anyone get a hold of Near?" Aizawa asked suddenly, sounding drained.

"I tried several times today," I announced. "No luck."

"Great. More good news."

"I still have a hard time believing this could be the work of the notebook." Ide lit a cigarette and sat back in his chair. "The more happens, the more I'm convinced we're dealing with your run of the mill psychopath."

"Probably more than one," I amended quietly, and Ide nodded.

The conference door opened suddenly, and Matsuda tiptoed in, carrying bags of takeout. "Hey, guys. Anybody hungry?"

"What'd you get?" Ide asked taking a bag from him and unloading it.

"Nothing fancy. I just went to that soba place around the corner. It isn't great, but—"

"Matsuda!" Aizawa shouted, facing him, eyes hard with genuine anger. "That's where you've been this whole time? Out getting _food_?"

Matsuda stared at him, mouth hanging open in mid-sentence, clearly bewildered by the outburst. "I…we're all hungry…and the run to the vending machine failed—"

I struggled to bite back a wince.

"The run to the vending machine failed because some criminal came around waving a gun in my face!" Aizawa roared. "And then you go to the shitty soba place around the corner not even an hour later? What can you be thinking? Are you just stupid, or are you out of your fucking mind?"

Ide's eyes popped and his mouth fell open too. I felt my features threatening to do something similar.

Looking subdued, Matsuda hung back. "Oh… Right. I'm sorry, Chief."

"And I'm not the chief! I'm not the goddamned chief, Matsuda! Stop calling me that!"

"Sorry. I just wasn't thinking."

"I know! That's what I'm saying! You never think! You're the only idiot in this department who'd run out and grab soba right after somebody stuck a gun in my face!"

"Shuichi," Ide tried. "Relax. It's not a big deal."

"Not a big deal? I'll tell you what's a big deal, Hideki—whoever's out there threatening to kill cops right now _wants_ Matsuda _dead!_ He almost died _yesterday_! Now he's out buying soba! You all think that's just fine? Not a big deal?"

"I just meant you're overreacting," Ide told him smoothly.

"Oh, you're right." Aizawa's face contorted into a scowl. "I should be perfectly _calm_ right now! The precinct's ready to hang us, and somebody wants one of my guys dead, now this asshole trying to buy me off, my car exploded! Eriko's _always_ mad at me! Why in the _hell_ should I be angry right now?" He turned on Matsuda again. "And you! I warned you to be careful! Did it completely escape you that maybe you should at least say something to someone before running off by yourself? I mean, do you even _have_ a good explanation for doing something that reckless?"

Totally humiliated, Matsuda shrugged. "I just…thought…maybe you were hungry…Ai…"

Aizawa's nostrils flared and his eyebrows shot up. I thought he'd go into another nearly hysterical rant, but instead he turned away suddenly, standing rigidly still with his back to us.

Matsuda looked helplessly at me and then Ide.

I pointed to the food he'd brought, and Ide was already digging into his.

Slowly, Matsuda sat down between us and started to pick at his soba, frowning unhappily. Once, he looked up at Aizawa and caught his breath to speak.

Immediately, I laid my hand on his shoulder and shook my head. Sorry apparently wasn't enough, and what else was there to say? He'd gotten chewed out for bringing us dinner.

Minutes ticked by while the three of us ate in total silence. Just once, Ide said, "Shuichi, knock it off and come eat," but Aizawa kept staring out the window.

By the time our meals were gone, Ide had started up a lighthearted conversation about a girl he used to know, who had seemed nice at first but turned out to be certifiably crazy. I listened and chuckled at appropriate moments, and every now and then Matsuda dropped a comment like, "That's totally crazy. I can't believe that," but all three of us kept one eye on Aizawa.

Finally, when Ide's story was over, he smoked in silence, looking expectantly at Aizawa.

Accordingly, Aizawa heaved a sigh and turned to us again, hesitantly, and his expression betrayed shame. "Look…guys… I'm sorry. I shouldn't have gone off like that. That was unprofessional…"

Ide pointed his chopsticks at the unopened soba container. "Sit down and eat."

Shifting his weight, Aizawa added, "It wasn't appropriate."

"You don't have to be appropriate or professional with us." Ide told him gravely. "Somebody pointed a gun at you today."

I nodded vigorously. "Forget it."

Aizawa took a single step forward, looking at Matsuda. "Touta…I didn't mean it… I'm just…"

"I get it," Matsuda told him softly. "I'm scared too."

"Yeah." Aizawa looked away from us again, face still drawn in distress. "That's it. I am scared. I'm scared we won't solve this case in time, and I'm scared of what the rest of the force will do if we don't."

"I'm scared that someone blew up your car," Ide said suddenly, voice twice as somber as usual. "It scares the living hell out of me that this maniac got that close to any of us. It scares me that some _other_ maniac threatened you with a gun today."

Chest a bit tight, I muttered, "I'm scared…that there isn't really anywhere for us to go. I'm scared that we belonged on the Kira investigation…and the world forgot us while we were there."

We all looked at each other a moment, absorbing the truth of all our fears, sharing them in a way only we could.

Sighing, Matsuda leaned back in his chair and draped his arm across his forehead. "I'm scared that…"

Everyone turned to him.

"…That I'll never get married…"

A moment of disbelieving silence passed, and then Ide started to laugh into his fist.

"Pfft! What?" He whacked Matsuda with the soba menu. "We're being serious."

"Hey, I am serious! I'm getting old, you know, and I haven't even had a chance to propose to a girl. I guess maybe I need to lower my standards. I've been waiting for someone as pretty as Misa-Misa."

Hearing Misa's name was like a stab in the heart to me, dragging me back to the scene of her bloody suicide, but I grinned and shook my head at him.

"Why do you guys think that's so funny? It's way past time for me to settle down—soon my mother's gonna start nagging at me again. _Touta_ , why can't you find a girl to take care of you? _Touta,_ are you gay? It's okay if you're gay, Touta, I just wish you'd tell me. _Touta,_ when are you going to give me some grandkids? Man, don't moms ever stop nagging?"

By the time he was done, Ide and I were both rolling with laughter at his mother impression. "That sounds like my mother too!" I gasped, wiping at my eyes.

Ide panted, "Maybe you should just enjoy the freedom while you have it, Matsu."

"What about you, Taniki-tan?" Matsuda wondered. "Aren't you ever getting married?"

"Don't start with me, _Mom_."

While we were laughing, Aizawa came over to the table, grabbed his box of soba, hesitated to ruffle Matsuda's hair in a uniquely affectionate gesture, and then sat down to prop his shoes up on the table and dig in. "Being married makes you fat," he grumbled.

Ide slammed him on the back. "At least we have you to tell us the secret of how to keep that from happening."

"That's right!" Matsuda chimed in. "We're all good as long as you're around to tell us what to do."

"Yeah, well," Aizawa huffed. "I guess that'll be for a little longer after all."


	7. Chapter 7

**Matsuda**

"Matsuda?" Sayu said nervously.

"Yeah?" I gripped my steering wheel tightly and stared at Yama's bar. We'd pulled into the parking lot a few minutes ago, and once we were there I felt like I couldn't move or speak.

"You okay?"

It was the same grungy place it had been yesterday, lit up now with warm lights and voices, and it did look a lot more inviting than Blue Heaven, but I couldn't get it out of my head that this was where someone had placed a bomb on Aizawa's car. I stared hard into the shadows, looking for suspects.

"I'm fine," I told her at last. "Just tired."

I shouldn't let what happened yesterday distract me, but it was hard to shake the feelings I'd had as I'd driven desperately to the station and after the car exploded. That on top of the fact that someone had held Aizawa at gunpoint today was more than a little daunting.

"You seem…out of it," she said.

There _was_ a cop killer out there, I reminded myself, still gazing into the darkness. I hadn't forgotten that when I'd gone to buy soba for everyone, it just hadn't seemed important with the station in sight. Here, at the site of a fatal shooting, it seemed a little more intimidating.

"Matsuda?" she called again. "Did you hear me?"

I was putting myself at a big enough risk—it wasn't right to risk her also—I'd gone back and forth with it all day, but I kept coming back to the shotgun and the chance I had at finding it, and in the end, it seemed worth the risk. I'd finally decided to pick up Sayu just because I'd told her I would, and because, honestly, I liked having her with me.

"I have a lot on my mind," I told her with a sigh. "Hey, do you think maybe you should stay out here in the car?"

Sayu shook her head stubbornly. That look in her eye reminded me so much of Light and the face he'd made when he argued with L about how to go about solving the case. "You might need me."

"I'm a police officer."

"I told you—flashing your badge around and acting like a cop isn't going to get you anywhere with Momo-san. I think he really hates cops."

"About that though. I mean, I was here yesterday. Don't you think he'll recognize me?"

Sayu stayed quiet a while, watching the bar intently, thinking about that.

Despite the fact that it was Friday, nobody was coming or going, but the open sign glowed. That seemed strange to me.

"I don't know," she admitted finally. "But _somebody_ has to look into it."

So it was either tell Aizawa the whole story and get him to send someone who hadn't been here yesterday—like Mogi and Ide—after my lead, which was bound to get Sayu and me both in a lot of trouble, or go in there and hope for the best.

I figured even if the bartender did remember me, I could still tell Aizawa, and he could still send Ide and Mogi tomorrow. As long as we were here, we might as well see what we could do.

As we stepped out of the car, I told her, "The guy we're looking for is named Hiro Miyami. Beyond that…I guess you should let me do the talking."

"What are you going to say?"

I really hadn't thought that far ahead. Assuming Miyami was even here, and the bartender didn't announce to the world that I was a cop, I thought I might be able to casually ask about the shotgun and pretend to be interested in buying it like I had with Koli.

Of course, that was anything but foolproof.

When I opened the door, a bell rang, and a small, motley crowd looked up to watch us come in. I took my time scanning them. Most played pool amidst a haze of cigarette smoke, a few loners glaring at us from the bar, but nobody looked promising. If the bartender couldn't tell me who Miyami was, I'd have to talk to all of them.

Trying not to let that make me uncomfortable, I led Sayu to the counter, where the bartender stood polishing some glasses. I remembered him from yesterday for his bald head and black handlebar mustache. He watched us a second and then called out, "Oh, so it's you again, is it?"

I froze, sure he'd blow my cover in the next sentence.

Waving, Sayu skipped up to the bar. "Konbanwa, Momo-san."

He gave her a gap-toothed smile. "I'm surprised to see you in here tonight, sweetie. Place ain't your style."

Sayu hoisted herself delicately onto a stool. She was dressed a little more femininely today, in a button up shirt and a pair of pants with those cute, little flat shoes girls wear. She fluffed her ponytail. "Yeah! I thought it was a cool place, that's all."

Nodding, Momo looked at me next. He must recognize me, even without my suit and tie.

"Place sure is dead for a Friday," I commented, trying to look at the customers instead of into his eyes.

"We're under new management," he grumbled, like that somehow explained the deadness.

"Maybe people are scared after what happened the other night," Sayu suggested lightly.

More importantly, it seemed strange the owner hadn't shut down. Maybe he just couldn't afford to. I studied Momo, seriously doubting he might be the owner—he looked grungy, with dirt under his fingernails and whiskey on his breath, and there was a reckless air about him, like he couldn't care one way or another what went on around here.

I didn't like the hungry grin he gave Sayu as he said, "You ain't scared though, huh?"

"No way!" Sayu said immediately. "I could go for some action."

Momo chuckled and set his glass aside. "Anyways, what can I get for you kids?"

"I'm driving," I said, smiling politely. "But she'd like a soda."

He cocked an eyebrow at her.

Sayu hit my arm, playfully. "You're horrible! I'd like a cosmopolitan, please, Momo-san."

Not beer this time. I guess she wanted to play up the idea that we were just a young couple looking to have a good time on Friday. I wished I felt up to that, but I really wanted to get in and out as quickly as possible.

"One cosmo, comin' up," Momo agreed with gruff cheer, and set to making the drink.

I leaned against the bar, watching him and tapping my finger on the scratched surface of the counter. "So…anyway…Momo-san… I heard an old friend of mine comes here a lot…"

"Lotta people come in here, kid." He finished up the cosmo and slid it to Sayu, but when she dug into her wallet he said, "On the house, sweetie."

I had to wait for Sayu to go through her squeal and giggle thankfully routine before I could say, "My friend's name is Miyami. Hiro Miyami."

Eyes hardening, Momo gave me a long, skeptical look. "You know Miyami?"

"Sure. I mean, I haven't seen him in years." I still couldn't believe he didn't recognize me, but if he did, he hadn't said so.

A weird smile crept reluctantly across his lips, like he was having a hard time being polite to me. "I'll tell him you were lookin' for him, Mister…?"

I suddenly couldn't remember if I'd given him my name yesterday when I was investigating, but I didn't dare give it to him now.

 _This isn't the Kira investigation,_ I reminded myself. _Giving out my name shouldn't be a big deal._

 _No, but somebody is trying to kill you…_

"Oh, that's all right. Don't go to any trouble," I said quickly, trying to smile and not look too unnerved. "Um… Has he been in recently?"

"Sure." He was back to polishing glasses. "Saw 'im five minutes ago."

My jaw fell open at the news, letting the words, "Wow! That's great!" tumble out. And then I checked around the bar again, turning back and forth, genuinely hopeful he'd be sitting nearby. "Hey, is he still around? It'd be awesome to catch up!"

Momo watched me like he was wondering what kind of speed I'd been taking, but he smiled again, largely this time. "As a matter of fact, he just went out to his car."

"Really? I must not have recognized him."

"I'll bet ya can catch up if ya hurry."

It was all too perfect—if I caught Miyami at his car I wouldn't even have to worry about other people overhearing us.

"Thanks a lot, Momo-san!" I turned to run out of the bar.

Sayu shouted, "Matsuda, wait!"

"I'll just be gone a second!" I burst through the door and rushed out into the night.

The bell tinkled as she dashed after me. "Matsuda, no, really, wait! Let's think about this!"

Pausing on the sidewalk, I looked up and down the street, searching for any sign of a person walking through the parking lot. Five minutes was long enough to have driven away, but on the off chance he was around…

"Matsuda," Sayu trotted up beside me. "Don't you think it's weird? I mean…don't you think it was too easy?"

"I never complain about things being too easy." I didn't see anybody in the parking lot. Off on the right, though, the road led back to another row of bars, clubs, and a few lofts.

I jogged that way, and she scrambled after me. "Even if it just _happened_ to be that easy, he's obviously not around here anymore. We should come back a different night."

"I just wanna check around real quick."

We were both quiet a moment, walking further into the shadows, where some of my enthusiasm started to wear off. As we passed the alley where the ex NPA detectives had been killed, I shuddered and blurted out suddenly, "Somebody pulled a gun on Aizawa today."

Sayu hesitated in her steps. "What? Why?"

"I don't know… They were trying to bribe him into letting the case go."

"But you guys aren't anywhere near solving it, right?"

"No," I admitted. "Not really."

"Why would someone need to bribe him off? Did he get close to something important?"

"I don't think so."

"That doesn't make any sense."

"That's what he kept saying." I glanced around again. Several streetlights were out, and I didn't see any sign of someone walking ahead of us.

"Let's go back," Sayu suggested quietly. "There's no one over here."

We hadn't gone more than a block from the bar, but I felt a little scared too. I tried to remind myself I was a police officer, but more and more it looked like that didn't matter very much. After all, if someone would pull a gun on Aizawa, what was to keep them from doing the same to me?

 _Someone already pulled a gun on me…_

The memory of the hooded carjacker climbing in and sticking the barrel of his gun right in my face made my blood run cold and I almost turned around.

"Matsuda," Sayu hissed, voice ringing with quiet fear, and she took hold of my arm. "Let's go back."

I stopped and turned to look at her. "Don't worry, Sayu, it'll be okay." I offered her my hand. "Here."

Chewing her lip and tugging her necklace, Sayu reached out to me. I felt her fingers intertwine with mine.

Ahead of us, a frightening laugh erupted from the shadows. I gasped and jerked around again, heart fluttering. Next to me, I felt Sayu's body convulse.

Footsteps ambled toward us. It sounded like more than one person, and voices hissed to each other, snickering.

Automatically, my free hand found the handle of my gun. "M-Miyami-san?"

"So," a gravelly voice sneered. "Matsuda, right?"

Six men emerged from the darkness, all wearing bad haircuts and leather jackets with the English letter k printed on the breast pocket. Several carried weapons. The leader wore a decidedly cruel smile that made my stomach harden with fear.

Instinctively, I stepped in front of Sayu. "Who are you?"

Tossing his long hair back, he punched a fist into his hand. "Name's Troy."

Obviously an alias.

"What do you want?" I asked, trying to keep an eye on everyone at the same time. A big guy near the back carried a ball bat full of nails, and another dragged a lead pipe along, letting the tip scrape against the concrete.

Just out of arm's reach, they stopped, body's stiff and alert, ready to spring. "We're here to deliver a message.

I felt like I was trying to swallow a rock. "Okay…"

Troy pointed a gloved finger at me. "We don't like your style, Matsuda."

My mouth was dry. I licked my lips. "I didn't do anything to—"

"Don't play innocent with me, Mr. Policeman." He grinned with yellowed teeth. "We don't tolerate cops around here."

"I'm not—"

"Shut up, bitch!" he spat. "We ain't here to debate it—we're here to put'cha in your place."

Troy cocked back and swung, knuckles brushing the edge of my jaw as I ducked away, stumbling into Sayu and nearly knocking her down.

"Get out of here!" I yelled at her.

Roaring, Troy came at me with another blow.

I ducked under it. "Run!"

After that, there was no more time to think about what she did. Troy came at me fiercely, throwing punch after punch, never letting up.

I watched him carefully. Getting out of this was much more important than winning.

Cheering him on and cursing at me, his friends gathered around, penning us in, but they didn't get involved. Even when I kicked him so hard he fell down, they just helped him to his feet and shoved him toward me again.

Troy's eyes flashed. He pounded his fist into the dead center of my face.

I stumbled back, feeling my nose gush blood. Angrily, I jumped at him again, busting him in the gut. He doubled over, and I circled around him, wondering if I should draw my gun.

No. I didn't know what the others would do, and I had to think about Sayu.

 _Besides…there's no honor in shooting unarmed men…_

"Knock him on his ass!" she cried from the sidelines.

Viciously, Troy wrenched the pipe away from his friend. "Gimme that!" He swung.

The horrifying sensation of it whooshing past my head barely missed. With a shout, I rushed him, cramming my elbow into his chest.

Heaving, he swung at my face again. "Stupid bastard!"

He was too far out of reach to hit me. I watched the dull gleam of the pipe warily.

Troy lunged forward, and his knee bashed me in the side. I staggered, forcing myself to push the discomfort aside. Standing still for even a second would be a huge mistake.

I held my fists in front of my face, even knowing they couldn't protect me. After his next swing, I rammed him. My shoulder popped, and pain flooded through my upper arm. Troy fell on his back, writhing and coughing.

Not taking my eyes off Troy, I shouted, "Sayu, go call the cops!" The other five could jump in at any second.

Troy's friends helped him stand up again.

"Your girlfriend's not gonna call anybody!" he spat.

Immediately, two of his guys rushed over and grabbed Sayu. Through her screaming, I forced myself to keep my eyes on him. My heart felt like it might pop.

"Don't hurt her!" I ordered.

Grinning, Troy attacked again.

His fist connected with my cheek this time, and I reeled back. Sayu shrieked as I smashed into the ground, cursing.

Lying there on the freezing concrete, I couldn't help but think about my elementary school days. It had been a long time…but this wasn't the _first_ time someone tried to kick the snot out of me.

 _Isn't this why I became a cop?_

Head spinning, I forced myself to stand again. With a scream, I ripped my jacket off and ran at him, throwing every ounce of my weight against him, and we both slammed to the ground again, grappling back and forth, struggling to gain the upper hand.

I kicked him off me and rolled on top of him, busting him in the face again and again.

Under my fist, his nose broke. Blood sprayed across my shirt, making me feel sick. Just like it did when I shot the chief's son—this violence, like shards of broken glass shredding the lining of my stomach.

If this went on much longer, I'd have to get my gun.

Suddenly, his friends closed in on me. Two of them twisted my arms behind my back, clutching me between them. One kicked me in the stomach, and I doubled over. Another punched me in the face. Pain sped through my skull.

"Matsuda!" Sayu screamed.

Troy clambered up, spitting out blood, eyes on fire. "You're stronger than you look." He backhanded me.

Snarling, I struggled against the others, but there were too many.

"You almost had me," he sneered. The second blow rattled my teeth. I tasted blood in my mouth. "Too bad nobody told you there's safety in numbers."

A guy snagged a handful of my hair, jerking my head back, and Troy punched me again. A bright parade of colors without names streamed across my vision.

"This'll make for one less dirty cop to worry about. You'll _all_ pay for defying Lord Kira."

He loomed in my face, a horrible smile gashing his mouth. "And death is the only way to pay for crimes against Kira."

Troy hauled back and struck me with his elbow so hard I lost my vision. Dizziness poured down from my head, and my legs gave out. His friends held me up.

 _If I could just get to my gun…_

It was too late though; I waited too long.

I didn't know if I could shoot him anyway…

The punks threw me down in a puddle of leftover rain, tearing my shirt. The asphalt ripped away patches of my flesh.

Troy circled me, a sharp, black shadow cutting through my line of sight. He scraped his pipe up off the ground and lifted it over his head.

 _He's gonna beat me to death…like a dog…_

Howling furiously, I struggled to get up. I would shoot him. I would. Give me half a chance—I was angry. I wouldn't be killed for nothing. I wouldn't let Sayu watch this guy hammer on me. My fingers brushed across the handle of my gun.

Troy hovered over me with the pipe. In one fell swoop, he'd bust my head like a watermelon.

The screeching of tires pierced the night, and a sudden flare of headlights flooded the scene. One of the punks screamed and shielded his eyes.

Even Troy lurched back, caught off guard, lowering his weapon. "What the fuck?"

I jumped up immediately, kicking him as hard as I could in the back of the knees.

Yelping, he collapsed.

I reached for him, one fist cocked, fully intending to beat the living shit out of him.

Somewhere, a heavy car door slammed. "What the hell are you kids doing?" a voice boomed. "I'm calling the police!"

Immediately, the circle was filled with movement. Punks scrambled.

"Holy shit! That's Hiro!"

"I'm outta here!"

Their boots pounded on the pavement as they ran.

Troy jumped up, shoving me away. He took one badly aimed swing at my face and then chucked his pipe toward the headlights as he sprinted by.

Like in a dream, I watched all six of them jag off into the night.

Sayu slammed against me, holding on tight and babbling.

Bewildered anger surged inside me with nowhere to go.

Then a man I'd never seen before was standing over us, looking stern.

I was so stunned, I couldn't do anything but stand there, fist still raised to strike.

Back at Yama's, I guzzled down beer, trying to numb the throbbing in my face and side, but there was no dulling the pain of my injured pride. My heart pounded like a drum of war, and it was taking a long, long time for the anger to cool.

Pale-faced, Sayu watched me, sometimes touching my arm, occasionally trying to speak to me.

"Well," Hiro Miyami chuckled, "looks like you're not _too_ worn. I should still call the police though." He had very black eyes.

"I don't feel like dealing with them," I muttered, taking a huge gulp from my bottle.

"Matsuda…" Sayu admonished. "You should talk to the police. Those men attacked us for nothing."

I just shook my head. There was no way in hell Aizawa himself would show up to a call like this one, but he'd definitely hear about it later if I talked to anybody on the force. Having him on my case was the last thing I needed right now.

"Don't be stubborn," Miyami advised.

Slamming my beer back on the table, I took a long, intent look at his slicked back hair and wireframe glasses. Everything about him said typical Japanese businessman, from the sensible suit to the briefcase at his feet, and I could hardly believe this was the same Hiro Miyami Koli told me about. It was some crazy coincidence that he'd shown up like that.

Wild with my frustration, I shoved my bangs out of my eyes, hands still shaking uncontrollably. My shirt was torn and my abs were bruised, my knuckles oozed blood down to my wrist, and breathing hurt a little. In the end, I'd been so weak, somebody had to come and save me. Not just anybody—a suspect in this fucking case.

Miyami flashed a grin and sat back in his chair, crossing one leg over the other. "Hey, you don't wanna talk to the police—I certainly get that. It's not so bad though." He sipped his sake. "Drinks are on me."

I was already on my second beer, and I felt determined to find a point of raw drunkenness where I could forget everything that just happened.

 _No. This is the guy I need to talk to._ _I have to stay alert._

I took another slug from my beer, trying to calm down.

Miyami laughed again. "Seriously, now. What was all that about exactly?"

Sayu started to explain, probably thinking I couldn't speak for myself. "They—"

"Just a misunderstanding," I said darkly. My voice sounded unreal to me, unfamiliar. I didn't know the last time I'd felt so angry.

 _January 28_ _th_ _, 2013, one thirty in the afternoon…_

My blood boiled. _Why is this world so full of people who think they can get away with whatever they feel like?_

"I see." Miyami adjusted his glasses and looked out the window. We were sitting in a booth at the very back of the bar, a bit secluded from the other patrons. According to him, it was his table.

Despite being a business type man, there was an informality to him. His dress shirt was open at the collar, and he had a reckless attitude. I could see him being the kind of person who'd buy or sell illegal weapons.

"Those punks hang around this part of town all the time. They don't seem to have lives. They're the worst kind of scum."

"The kind Kira should take care of," my mouth said automatically.

I felt Sayu jerk against me, and she gave me a questioning look, but it only lasted a second before she turned back to Miyami. If she was anywhere near as smart as Light had been, she'd understand.

He smiled. "So, you're a Kira supporter too."

"I think the world would be a much nicer place if Kira were allowed to work," I said, downing another swig.

Chuckling, Miyami leaned toward me, and I caught a glimpse of a sparkle in his black eyes. "I have to admit, when Momo told me a kid named Matsuda was in here looking for me I was worried you might be a cop."

"Why would you think I'm a cop?" I didn't care anymore. Let him think I was a cop. Let all this fail. I just had to find out about that shotgun; I wasn't about to get my ass kicked for nothing. "Are you in trouble with the NPA?"

"No." Miyami shrugged. "I have a few friends on the wrong side of the law at the moment."

"Everyone's on the wrong side of the law; that's why Kira needs to make a comeback." Fuck it all, I'd even pretend to support that psychopath Light if it meant solving this damn case.

We could solve it easily, I thought, if Aizawa would use my plan, but he was so dead set against it, I didn't dare so much as bring it up again.

"You're right." Miyami sipped from his sake again. "I've always believed in the mercy of Kira myself, even when he was considered a common criminal. As long as we live decent lives, no harm will come to us."

"Kira's a tyrant," Sayu snapped. "Enough is never enough for someone like that."

Miyami raised his eyebrows. "Miss Sayu, Kira transcends all human understanding. He's not like you and I."

"You think Kira's a god," she accused. "He's not though. He's a fascist sociopath."

I didn't need her bogging the conversation down with some debate, so I squeezed her hand under the table, and she glared at me but relented.

"The people who defy Kira are the only ones in trouble," Miyami went on. "This investigation team that's always chasing him, and that L character—they're the worst."

"Kira's dead anyway," Sayu grumbled.

"Oh, but that isn't true, Miss. Not at all."

"I agree," I said, hoping to take control back. "Kira's making a comeback. That's what these new murders are about."

"Murders?" Miyami leaned forward, looking interested.

"That's right. A lot of people have been killed lately."

"The work of Lord Kira?"

"I don't think so, but whoever's behind it keeps leaving the message behind that he's alive."

I watched his reaction carefully, but he wasn't fazed. "I must admit, I don't watch the news too often. I was unaware."

Our case was the biggest thing to happen in weeks—he'd have to be living under a rock not to know.

"Were the victims criminals?"

"Just as good," I sneered. "NPA officers." The words made me sick, and I felt Sayu shudder, but she kept quiet. I felt bad that she had to sit through this.

Miyami's lips curled in a smile. "It's about time."

That smile and those words made me feel sicker and angrier than ever, and I had to draw a deep breath to bury my emotions, trying to look puzzled instead. "What do you mean?"

"Kira's been promising to punish the NPA for a long time."

"I don't see why," Sayu snorted. "Those are good men."

Seriously, Miyami turned to her. "Kira has never had greater opposition than the police. Like that taskforce—"

"That's a special force," she argued. "It has nothing to do with the police."

"C'mon, Sayu," I tried to sound disapproving. "You don't actually believe that, do you?"

She shot me an infuriated look, and I had to focus to keep the right expression.

Meanwhile, Miyami nodded. "After all, that one officer _shot_ Kira, and it's my understanding that all four of those men have returned to the NPA. It's disgusting how hypocritical the police have been."

Furiously, I studied him all the harder, grinding my teeth to keep from telling him what I really thought. The fact that we'd gone back to the NPA was no secret, even though the general public didn't know who we were. It wasn't impossible information for him to come up with, if he was interested. Still, it hinted that he might be more involved in our case than I had thought.

"The NPA will get theirs soon," he said. "And then we'll see the Rakuen."

"Paradise?" Sayu echoed. "What's that?"

"A world where there is no crime, with no need for law enforcement or government—a world where Kira is supreme. The Rakuen is coming soon, and the fact that NPA officers are being targeted proves it."

He looked so level-headed, I could hardly believe he thought something so farfetched.

"Soon, very soon, we'll see dramatic changes in the world." A bright grin lit up his face. "The shinigami will find the man responsible for shooting our god Kira, and once his blood has been spilled, Kira will be able to return and continue passing judgment, making the world as pure as when it was first created."

I choked on my beer. Actually, I was lucky I didn't fall out of my chair.

 _Shinigami_?

That information was beyond classified.

"Are you all right?" Sayu asked me, patting my back lightly.

"I just swallowed wrong. What's this stuff about a shinigami though?"

" _The_ Shinigami. The Reaper, if you prefer. He's Lord Kira's hand-chosen messenger. Not many people know he exists."

Then was that supposed to be a person? It might not have to do with the existence of real shinigami at all. Kira had gotten his name from a play on the English word killer, so possibly this Reaper, Shinigami guy was just following the trend out of his love for Kira.

 _Remember the shotgun._

"That reminds me, Matsuda-san. Momo said you claim to be an old friend, but I'm sure I've never seen you before."

It sounded like he was trying to change the subject, and the new topic was a lot closer to what I needed anyway. I'd worry about this Shinigami weirdness later.

"Oh…" I mumbled, turning my beer bottle around on the table. "No. Momo-san must have gotten it wrong. I never said that."

Miyami's eyes narrowed. "You were looking for me though, right?"

"Yeah… But it doesn't matter now, oji-san; I wouldn't want to bother you."

His mouth crinkled in a smile. "It's no bother. I feel like we're already friends. Come on, what's on your mind?"

I checked over one shoulder, and then the other, whispering, "I heard you have a shotgun. I was interested in getting it from you."

Immediately, his whole expression changed, forehead wrinkling, and his smiling mouth turned upside down, he uncrossed his legs and folded his hands. It only lasted a second, but I saw real concern in his eyes. When that passed, his grin came back, bigger than ever. "You heard about that, did you?"

"An acquaintance of yours told me about it."

"An acquaintance? I can't imagine who… Ah, who am I kidding? Koli has a big mouth." He scanned the room, as if looking for eavesdroppers. "Does anyone else know about this?"

"Just us," Sayu said.

Miyami studied her. "I'm startled a nice couple like you would even be interested."

"Is it still for sale?" I asked, thinking it was best not to say anything at all about our motives.

"Unfortunately, I sold it already."

I opened my mouth to ask him who he'd sold it to, but Sayu nudged me and said, "That's too bad, huh, babe?"

I couldn't believe this. I didn't want to think all this had happened for nothing. There had to be some way to find out where the gun had gone without raising his suspicions. I stared down at the table, trying to think of something to say, but I really felt like getting up and leaving. I'd failed.

Behind me, a voice said, "…Aizawa was certainly a hard case," ripping all my attention from Miyami so I missed whatever he said next, and I couldn't help turning to stare at the speaker.

Two men sat in a booth near ours. One was young with a cold face, dressed like he was heading to a funeral, and the other was morbidly obese, with bulging eyes. He was drinking wine and wringing his hands. "If he won't listen to reason…we may have to…"

The younger guy noticed me looking at them and muttered something.

Immediately, the fat guy glared up at me. "What're you looking at, you little brat?"

Struggling to hide my shock, I turned back to Miyami and Sayu, finding both of them staring at me. Sayu touched my hand and asked what was wrong. Miyami glanced at the men in the booth. "Do you know them?" he wondered.

I was so stunned, I couldn't speak for a moment. Obviously, there was more than one Aizawa in Tokyo, but… Was it even possible those were the men he'd talked to earlier? That seemed like an even crazier coincidence.

It took every ounce of my willpower not to go over to question them. "Matsuda." Miyami laid a hand on my shoulder, jerking me back to reality. "Is something wrong?"

"Oh. Uh." I scraped the hair out of my eyes, and then I made myself rub the back of my neck, the way I normally would. "No. Nothing. I thought I heard someone say my name. Anyway, it's too bad about the gun. Guess I'm outta luck." I made myself laugh.

Sayu's forehead wrinkled as she stared at me.

"Yes…" Miyami agreed slowly, still glancing at the men in the other booth. "I'm sorry I couldn't help."

"Who knows though," I said brightly. "Maybe I'll stumble across another one some day. Japan should make it legal for their citizens to bear arms. Don't you think? Maybe Kira can fix that too. After all, if he creates a world where there are only good people, it would be all right, wouldn't it?"

Miyami tried to smile back, but I could tell he was confused by my sudden change in attitude.

"Where did you get it anyway?" I asked. "Is there some way for me to buy one?"

He laughed. "I'm sure there is, but I wouldn't know about where to start with that. I never wanted it. I found it."

That wiped the smile off my face. "Found it?"

"That's right."

"You mean," Sayu said carefully, "somebody gave it to you?"

"No, no, I really did find it. Outside this very building as a matter of fact—in the dumpster."

Dumbfounded, I stared at him. _He's gotta be lying. How and_ when _would he have found a shotgun in the dumpster?_

This case seemed to get more and more bizarre by the second.

"I realize it sounds strange," Miyami explained, "but it's the truth." He checked his watch. "I am sorry I couldn't help you though, Matsuda—you could have used it tonight."

"Ah, yeah. I kept thinking that if I only had a gun I would have put those kids in their place."

"Oh? So you don't own any firearms yet?"

"No, not yet…" I said, trying to look and sound sheepish. "I guess it's a good thing you came along when you did."

Miyami gave me another smile, and this one seemed to brim with slyness. "Happy to be of service. But, unfortunately, I must be leaving now." He got up, placing a hand on my shoulder like he'd known me my whole life. "My wife will worry if I don't get home soon."

I wondered if he even had a wife.

"You two should stay a while and enjoy the bar, collect yourselves. Just tell Momo to put your order on my tab. In fact." He shouted suddenly, "Momo! This young man here is a close friend of mine—take care of him for me!"

Momo smiled, revealing his missing tooth again. "You got it, Boss!"

Miyami bowed to us. "I hope that makes up for the fact that I couldn't be of better service, Matsuda-san. But try to make the most of it, won't you? And come by again some time—I'm here nearly every night."

"All right, oji-san," I said, doing my best to remember my manners. "Thank you."

"Thank you," Sayu echoed, dipping her head.

And then Miyami patted my shoulder, picked up his briefcase, and walked away, pausing to talk to Momo again before hurrying out the door.

Sighing, I laid my head on the table, trying to make the shaking stop.

"Hey." Sayu put a hand on my back. "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine. I just want to leave."

"Do you think it's safe?"

"We'll be okay." I'd be more careful this time. I'd been stupid, running out into the dark like that.

As we left the bar, I tried not to draw any extra attention, but Momo watched us intently, so I nodded to him. "Good night, Momo-san."

Visibly startled, he nodded back at me.

Outside, the open air felt good against my hot face, and with the din of the inner city roaring in the distance, it seemed like we were a long ways from everything.

I paused just outside the door to take a long look over my shoulder, trying to see the two men who'd been discussing Aizawa, but they were out of sight. More and more, though, I was sure they had to be talking about _the_ Aizawa, and this bar, and the people inside it, must be a central part of our case.

Slowly, I walked toward the car, thinking about what I might be able to do with the information I'd gotten tonight. At first glance, it didn't seem like there was _anything_ I could do by myself, and that meant we were both going to get in trouble for what we'd been doing. After all, Aizawa had been angry with me for getting in the middle of the Misa-Misa case—no, forget that—he'd been furious with me just for going to get soba by myself, so he was going to flip when he heard about all this. Sayu could wind up in jail for interfering, and I was probably going to get suspended from the force. I didn't even know if it was worth it.

And then it hit me. None of that was true. The information I'd gotten today _was_ valuable, and I could use it. I might still get suspended from the force, but I could keep Sayu out of it—I'd find a way—and in the meantime, we finally had some leads to go off of.

My mind whirled back to the fight, and my blood pulsed with the exhilaration of the memory of going blow to blow with another man and feeling strong. I hadn't felt so alive in what seemed like forever.

Inexplicably, I started to laugh. I knew it would look suspicious to anyone who happened to be watching me, including the men who'd been discussing Aizawa. I tried to suppress it, but my shoulders shook uncontrollably.

"Matsuda-san!" Sayu grabbed my arm suddenly, turning me around, shocked to find me grinning.

"Wh-what's so funny?" she demanded feebly, and I knew from the look in her eyes she was still scared.

But I felt great, and that made me laugh even harder.

"What's wrong with you?" she insisted.

Unable to help it anymore, I burst into laughter, and my voice rang back at me. A few lights in a nearby loft even came on. I just held my sides, laughing so hard I thought I'd cry.

"Did you see it, Sayu?" I demanded suddenly, still struggling to contain myself. "That was amazing!"

"What are you talking about?"

"The fight! I totally had him on the _ropes_ before his friends jumped in! I thought maybe he was letting me win, but I totally kicked his butt!" The excitement and adrenaline jolted through every vein in my body, and I pumped my fists into the air. "I've never won a fight in my life!"

"But," she pointed out, "you didn't win."

"Only because I was outnumbered. If it had been one on one, I would have been the champ! And on top of that, Miyami totally fell for my act!"

She looked skeptically toward the bar. "Are you sure? He didn't seem completely convinced."

"He doesn't trust me, sure, but he believed I support Kira. Maybe all that time hanging out with L and Light actually paid off!"

I went back to laughing, and she stared at me a while.

"Not to be a bummer, but we didn't get the shotgun. Doesn't that make this a waste of time?"

Light wouldn't have been impressed with such a small victory either.

I was though. I stood in the street, face bloody, body aching, feeling triumphant.

"It's nice to see you happy," she went on, "but I don't see any reason to celebrate. You got beat up, and we didn't get much for the trouble other than a few free drinks."

"Don't you see though? I never needed the shotgun. All I really needed was to find out who owned it, and I did!"

"But Miyami probably didn't have anything to do with those murders."

Excited warmth spread through my face. "C'mon, Sayu—you heard what he said. He _found_ a shotgun? When? Right after the murder?"

"Maybe." She shrugged. "For all we know, he came across those guys, happened to find the gun, and then called the police himself. I doubt it, though. It seemed more like he might have just been baiting you."

"No matter where he got it, he admitted to having it, plus he really hates the NPA. He's a Kira _fanatic!_ He _must_ be involved with the case! I'll bet he's the man who killed Nishi Yamaguchi!"

"You're losing me."

"Oh, sorry—I forgot I'm not supposed to talk about the case with you. Anyway, it's a huge lead! All we have to do is tail Miyami until we can find some other way to connect him to the case and BAM!"

She jumped in surprise.

"We got him!"

"It feels like a trap though, Matsuda."

I barely heard her. "I did it! Even if it's a trap, he was stupid to tell me anything about the shotgun! Besides, he has no idea who I am. I did it—without Aizawa, or Ide, or Mogi, or anyone!"

Shouting, I put both fists in the air, and someone in the loft yelled for me to shut up.

"Besides! Even if we _can't_ get anywhere with Miyami, I totally found another lead while we were in the bar!"

Her eyes widened. "You did? Wait, when? How?"

"Unh-uh." I wagged a finger at her. "I'll tell you tomorrow after I pick you up."

Finally, Sayu's face started to glow with some enthusiasm, and her voice brightened. "You…you mean that? You want me to keep working with you?"

"Hell yeah! I never could have done any of this without you!"

I was so caught up in the moment, I suddenly threw my arms around her and swept her off her feet, spinning in a circle and laughing like a madman.

Finally, she started to laugh too, and her eyes burned like the sun, face flushed strawberry red. The orangey glow of the bar lights gleamed off her hair, and I felt her heart racing against my own. Looking at her made me feel the way I used to, when the only thing I had to worry about was what to watch on TV and who to hang out with over the weekend, back when things were simple. It made me feel like my heart would burst.

Without really knowing how or when, the spinning stopped, and she was clinging to my neck, legs straddling me, and our faces were pressed together, lips locked. I tasted cranberry sweetness on her tongue. There was security in her embrace—something I hadn't felt in a long, long time—and there was tenderness in the touch of her fingers, slipping up into my hair. I pressed her close, and cherished those feelings.

The kiss didn't last long, but I felt breathless when it ended, and I spent what felt like an eternity staring into her tender eyes, feeling her breath against my skin, head light and floaty, like I could drift straight up into the sky like a hot air balloon.

Sayu whispered, "Matsu…"

Immediately, I realized I shouldn't have done that. She was Soichiro's daughter

—she was way younger than me—she was still in mourning and traumatized, she was Light's sister, and I'd shot him.

I set her back on her feet, turning away, still dizzy and warm. It had been a long time since I'd felt that way, and it had been even longer since I'd kissed someone so passionately. After Sumi, I'd had a few shallow rebounds, definitely not real relationships, and definitely nothing as charged as what I'd just felt. I didn't know for sure what came over me, just that it was probably inappropriate. "S-sorry, Sayu…"

She stayed quiet a second and then murmured, "I don't mind."

Shouldn't have maybe, but I didn't regret it, and I liked the way it made me feel; I wanted to feel it again. As I turned to her, I realized I was smiling. "C'mon. Let's get you home."

Sayu smiled back and took my hand as we walked, and that closeness made me feel braver than I had in my entire life.

 **Ide**

 **-Day Two-**

"What the hell happened to you?" Aizawa demanded, practically lunging across the room to grab Matsuda's chin and tilt his head to the side, gawking at the huge black eye that had swollen the right side of the kid's face.

Mouth hanging open, I stared too, but Matsuda grinned weakly. "Oh… I fell down."

"Fell down?" I echoed incredulously, glancing at his scabbed knuckles.

"It _looks_ like you got a fist in the eye," Aizawa said.

"Yeah… I hit my face on the coffee table," he lied. "Does it really look that bad?"

"It looks like someone walked on you."

Matsuda laughed in a way I hadn't heard in a long time and brushed his fingers through his hair like he was embarrassed. "No, I was just drunk."

We gawked at him for a while, and there wasn't much else to say. Drinking was pretty routine for him, and lately it had seemed like his one and only pastime. He _could_ be telling the truth…

"Well, are you okay?" I asked eventually.

"Sure!" Matsuda chirped. "I'm great, actually."

"Getting your ass kicked in a fight doesn't sound great," Aizawa told him darkly.

"Oh, c'mon! What makes you think I got my ass kicked? I really gave the coffee table hell!" He laughed again, and I noticed a sparkle in his eyes that had been absent ever since Light died.

I wondered at it. That old spiritedness didn't seem like something he was simply going to wake up into again, and I couldn't guess what might have triggered it. Definitely not working on this annoying case.

Yoko prowled into the room, carrying a folder under one arm and looking serious. She paused to study Matsuda's face, cocking a slim eyebrow.

Matsuda beamed at her. "Good morning."

"Did your boyfriend hit you?"

He frowned. "What? No! I'm just clumsy. And you shouldn't joke about domestic violence."

"I wasn't joking," she muttered, handing the folder to Aizawa.

Immediately, he started leafing through it, still glancing distractedly at Matsuda's battered face. He was calm again at least. Last night he'd been so keyed up, I'd hardly known what to do, and I didn't think I'd _ever_ seen him quite like that. No matter how many times I told myself it made sense for him to be frazzled after an experience like that, I got a bad feeling there was more to it, especially since the Shuichi Aizawa I knew _wouldn't_ be so messed up over even being held at gunpoint.

Once we'd gotten away from Mogi and Matsuda, I'd asked, more directly, _Are you really okay?_

To my dismay, he'd shaken his head, but hadn't expanded on why. But then again, it had been a long day; at the meeting earlier, plenty of our fellow officers had accused him of shooting Kira and threatened him in particular; Commissioner Oshima hadn't done anything to help, and I worried he'd chosen to stand aside intentionally. I worried he was out to get my partner as much as anyone else might be.

But, even if I was simply caving into my natural instincts of paranoia and no one was out to get Aizawa, it was a lot for one man to take, and he had a way of trying to do everything alone.

"Dammit," he muttered, after he'd perused the file a while, and the lines on his forehead wrinkled.

"What's wrong, Chief?" Matsuda asked, holding a cold soda can against his eye. "Bad news?"

"No, there's nothing. Nothing at all. Did those guys kill _themselves_?"

"What if," Yoko mused, "we're thinking too hard about them? They really _could_ have been random people in the wrong place at the wrong time."

"I think not," Okoshi announced from his place by the coffee pot. "It's more likely they were part of some gang and their boss chose to kill them to further his agenda."

"That's so messed up," Matsuda murmured.

Okoshi nodded. "It's possible we _are_ dealing with the yakuza, even though, in all my time on the force, I've never seen them do anything quite like this."

Kei called out from where she sat with her boots propped up on the table. "Or maybe it's a red herring. Don't you think maybe they were killed just to distract us or get our attention?"

I couldn't help glaring mildly at her. "That's ridiculous."

"Not really. If they wanted us to see the tape Matsuda brought from the carjacker they could have sent it in the mail or something. And like you guys said, they even copied something Kira did back in the day. Everything they're doing seems like a play to get our attention."

"Who would do something like that?" I demanded.

"A complete psycho. Duh."

My glare deepened. "Get your feet off the damn table, Komagata."

She stuck her tongue out at me. "Make me."

"Insufferable gaijin," I muttered, and shoved her boots to the floor, but she just smirked up at me, the brat. Even Matsuda wasn't so gallingly rude and insubordinate to me, and chalking her attitude up to being a foreigner didn't seem to quite cover the way she treated me. As I glared at her, she continued to smirk, happy to have gotten under my skin.

"It is possible," Aizawa admitted. "We might be wasting our time investigating the victims while the real clues slip by."

"Clues like a missing shotgun?" Matsuda called.

Rubbing his chin, Aizawa began to pace. "How can we know for sure though?"

"There _could_ be a vital clue hidden in these deaths," Okoshi agreed, flipping through the file himself. "We can't afford not to investigate them."

Aizawa turned to him. "What about the victims from the bar?"

"Nothing," Okoshi told him quietly. "There's nothing between the two of them to incriminate someone either."

" _They_ couldn't have been picked at random," Yoko decided. "It's too much of a coincidence that they were in the NPA."

"Hey." Matsuda sat up suddenly, slamming his soda on the table. "Where's Chiba?"

I glanced through the team again, noticing for the first time that he wasn't there. He was a tight investigator, but his personality wasn't especially memorable, and I usually didn't notice him. "Maybe he forgot to come in—it is Saturday."

Aizawa was already getting on the phone to call him. I wondered if he'd chew him out the way he did for Matsuda picking up soba.

"He was all excited for the case yesterday," Kei told us, snapping her gum. "After he came back from his interviews, he told me he found some information about Yamaguchi he wanted to run past us."

"Why didn't he tell me?" Aizawa wondered, phone to ear.

She gave him a questioning look, and for some reason turned to me. "Wanna tell him?"

"It was after you went to the vending machine," I said to Aizawa. "You weren't…in a very good mood…"

"Good mood or not, it's a stupid reason not to give me the facts as soon as they're available," he growled.

"Well, at least he's got some information," Matsuda said with a cheerful smile. "We could use some of that. Oh, that reminds me! When Chiba gets here I have some stuff to tell you guys. It might—"

Aizawa hushed him, "I'm on the phone, blabber mouth. Hang on for a second, and quit yelling."

"Oh, sorry!" Matsuda put his hand over his mouth.

I couldn't help smiling to myself. I'd never seen him this weird for this long, not even after that girl he liked so much dumped him a couple years ago. For a week after that, he'd barely spoken, and quickly the rest of us had realized that, as annoying as he could be, the interminable silence was much, much worse. We'd even christened it the Matsuda Void, and every one of us had complained behind his back about it, not fully voicing our concerns, but casually agreeing that we'd really like to have a word with the woman who'd obviously broken his heart.

This was worse, but it looked like Aizawa might be right—he just needed to get involved in a case to start coming around again.

I slammed his shoulder. " _You've_ got information? Did hell freeze over too?"

"Hey, Taniki-tan." His eyes lit with excitement. "Don't act so surprised. I've got my sources."

"Just as long as it's not something you read in a gossip rag."

"Everyone hang on a second," Aizawa repeated. "This is weird…" His face looked troubled as he put his phone away. "It said the number is no longer in service…"

Matsuda rubbed his eye. "Maybe he got a new phone. _I_ did. It's the new Nexus 4, and it is _awesome!_ You gotta check out the 360 degree camera!"

It had been such a long time since any of us had heard him go off about anything so trivial, Aizawa actually let him ramble about his phone a while before muttering, "Yeah. Maybe. It just seems strange."

Mogi burst into the room, silent, face lit with panic.

Matsuda jumped. "Mogi! You scared me!"

"What's the matter?" I asked him, watching as he rushed to turn the TV on, flipping around until he found the news.

It showed live footage of an apartment that had caught fire. It looked like it was completely out of control, and the building was in danger of being destroyed.

"That's Chiba's apartment," Mogi told us gravely.

"Dammit!" Aizawa spat.

I stared disbelievingly at the news, listening to the reporter.

"Not only are the flames unusually large, as if fueled by some sort of flammable material, there is also the matter of the message."

"Message…" Kei whispered.

The camera panned to the right, where an enormous banner hung off the wall of the apartment building. It had already caught fire, but crimson characters dared, CATCH ME IF YOU CAN, and it was signed, The Shinigami.

My heart lurched in my chest. Immediately, Aizawa, Mogi, and I were staring at each other. Matsuda kept his eyes glued to the TV.

"Sh…shinigami…" Aizawa murmured. "Is this a hoax?"

"Morbid hoax," Yoko commented with a shudder.

"It can't be," I said under my breath. "Can it?"

"God, it had better not be," Aizawa snapped. "Matsuda, saddle up. We're going."

We all looked at him questioningly.

"Me?" Matsuda wondered.

"Don't ask me any questions right now. Let's just go."

Matsuda fumbled with his coat. "'Kay."

"Everyone, get to work." Aizawa stormed out of the room.

I wasn't sure what to do as I watched him go. We didn't have anywhere to turn next—all our leads had been dead ends. It seemed like digging further into them was as pointless as going to Chiba's apartment. Still, the others scrambled out of the room to get started on their respective tasks until only Matsuda, Mogi, and I lingered, staring at the screen and the horrifying message.

"Guys…" Matsuda said quietly. "This isn't Kira, right?" All the exuberance and warmth had been sucked right out of his voice again.

Mogi shook his head. "No."

A shinigami though. It could mean another notebook. Another Kira. The very idea was exhausting, and I leaned back against the wall, fumbling for my cigarettes.

Next, Matsuda drew a deep breath. "I have to tell you guys something really important."

I forced myself to take my eyes off the TV and look at him.

"Aizawa will be mad…but you guys'll stay calm, right?"

"Is it bad?" Mogi wondered.

"No, it's good, but—"

Mogi's phone rang suddenly. At first, he glanced at it, like he had no intention of answering, and then he did a double take and put it to his ear immediately. "This is Mogi." After that, it was clear he was utterly absorbed in his conversation, even though he said very little.

Matsuda sighed with vague frustration and faced me. "I didn't really fall and hit my face, Ide."

"No. Really." I tried not to feel annoyed, but there wasn't time for this, and I could only hope he was going somewhere with that.

"No, I—"

Aizawa stuck his head through the door, shouting, "Matsuda, what's taking you so long?"

Next to me, Mogi asked, "Isn't it possible for me to call you back? There's an emergency."

"I'm coming," Matsuda told Aizawa quickly. "Just one sec."

"No— _now_!"

"I'm just—"

"Right now, Matsuda!" Aizawa grabbed him by the arm and dragged him out of the room.

With a helpless look to me, Matsuda disappeared through the door, and I thought about going after him. Surely, though, if it was really important, he would tell it to Aizawa.

"It's just that I'm at work," Mogi hissed into the phone.

I watched the TV again. The news continued to cover the fire, though the shot had moved away from the message and two experts were discussing the possible cause of the blaze and furthering their theories on whether or not it had been the work of an arsonist.

Even if it had nothing to do with the notebook, it must have to do with our case, but I was almost afraid to know why anyone would mention a shinigami.

"I'm in the middle of a very important case," Mogi said, and then he blurted, "Wait! Near!"

I whipped around to face him, but he was staring down at his phone like it had betrayed him. Finally, he sighed and shoved his phone into his pocket, turning to look at me.

"What did he say?" I asked.

"Very little."

"Does he still have the notebook?"

"I didn't get a chance to ask."

"Hm." I glared at the TV and finally lit my cigarette. "Well, dammit."


	8. Chapter 8

**Aizawa**

After I had to practically drag Matsuda from the building and into a cruiser, he had the audacity to pout the whole ride to Chiba's apartment, but I felt annoyed too. Did he think the fire would wait for him?

By the time we reached the scene, the banner had burned—there'd never been any salvaging it anyway—and we would have to rely on photographic evidence and eye witness accounts to even prove it had ever been there. I told myself that wasn't Matsuda's fault, but he _had_ held us up.

Honestly, I might not even have brought him if he hadn't come in today looking like a professional boxer.

When we pulled in, the firefighters were still battling with the flames, and the police had cordoned off the area. Survivors from the building stood around in their pajamas, struggling to comfort their children, while, in the distance, red-hot flames licked all the way up to the roof.

Matsuda and I tore through the crowd, looking frantically for Chiba.

I ran up to the nearest firefighter who not currently employed at the hose and flashed my badge. "Captain Aizawa. Are these all the survivors?"

Next to me, Matsuda turned around and around, scanning the crowd. He even called Chiba by name.

Eyes filled with contempt, the firefighter said, "This is everyone we were able to evacuate."

"Are there any more people inside?" Matsuda demanded, shouldering against me.

"Hard to say. Excuse me, gentlemen, I have work to do." He brushed past us without another word.

Even people who had historically been allies acted like they hated us now. I felt like the only person in the world with their sanity intact, and mine was rapidly deteriorating.

"Let's split up," I said to Matsuda. "He's got to be here somewhere."

"Right." Immediately, he ducked away into the cluster of survivors, and I went the other way, asking everyone I passed about Chiba, but most people had no idea who he was, and the few who did had no idea _where_ he was.

 _He couldn't have been inside_ , I told myself. _The fire department got all these people out in time—they couldn't have missed him!_

I felt sick though. The message was different than it had been at the last two crime scenes, but it was done similarly enough to make me feel certain the fire had been started by the psycho we were out to catch.

I paused in the midst of the onlookers and those who'd been rescued. It was a chilly day, and I could see my breath, but the noxious fumes of the burning apartment choked the air. Nearby, a woman sat on the curb, holding a little girl on her lap. The kid was squeezing her teddy bear and bawling.

I almost called my family, but this would only scare Eriko more. I never told her about what happened to me last night either, and I hated feeling like I couldn't confide in her.

As I continued asking about Chiba, I got a lot of dirty looks, and one guy even spat at my shoes. The NPA was looking worse and worse with every turn this case took, and that made me feel crazier than anything else. I just wanted to shout at all of them, _We're trying to_ prevent _things like this!_

When a long time had passed, Matsuda came back to me, the light that had brightened his face earlier completely gone. He shook his head, I shook mine, and we stood back and watched the building burn together.

Gradually, the crowd thinned. Unaffected, the curious spectators went about their lives, and the people lucky enough to have been saved got picked up by relatives. The news crew packed up and pulled out, happy with their story. Soon, it was just the fire department, squelching the last of the embers in a pile of smoldering debris, and us two.

Matsuda followed me up to the perimeter, where I showed them my badge and asked if we could go in and look through the wreckage. I don't know why I bothered—of course they told me no.

"Our fellow officer lived here," I explained quietly. "We just want to know if he's okay."

The man gave us a sympathetic look, but still wouldn't let us in, so we had to keep waiting. It didn't make any difference though. Even if we waited all night they weren't about to let two detectives go digging through the debris until they knew it was completely safe.

"Chiba was investigating Yamaguchi," Matsuda said, when what felt like a full hour of silence had passed. "If he found something out, would they have killed him for that?"

"I'm not sure." I didn't even know why we were still there. It just felt wrong to leave until we knew something about what happened to Chiba.

 _Nothing's working out. Nothing's working out at all._

I watched the smoke rise against the cold sky, feeling utterly helpless, wishing someone could tell me what to do next.

Maybe I had just gotten too good at taking orders. I wasn't sure I really understood how to give them.

 _Even if I did, it wouldn't have saved Chiba._

"Maybe he's alive," Matsuda murmured.

"Maybe." I sank down to sit on the curb, for the first time seriously considering asking Near for help. This case wouldn't be a challenge for him—he wouldn't take it—and I wasn't sure I wanted his help anyway. L, Near, and Light had all been arrogant, constantly treating us like idiots, seemingly unable to respect the lives of any of the people around them. I guess, to them, we had been idiots, but at least we respected life. I was tired of taking orders from madmen.

Light had been the maddest of them all, and I'd followed his commands for years. If anything made me feel like a fool, it was that mistake.

I stared up at Matsuda as he frowned out at the remains of the apartment building. It was much easier to appreciate his simplicity when I thought about the experiments L had always been conducting and the casual way Light had gone about murdering people, as if everything was just a game.

"What's going to happen in six days?" Matsuda wondered. "I mean, if he's already doing things like _this_ …how can things get worse?"

"Things can always get worse," I muttered, scratching at the ground with a stick.

"Aizawa… I have a question."

"Okay." I'd told him no stupid questions, but the scene was too somber to get caught up on anything petty.

Still, he took his time asking, and I couldn't help staring at his black eye, insulted that he'd even think we'd buy his coffee table story when it was obvious he'd gotten his lights knocked out by someone. I hoped it was just a dumb bar fight that had nothing to do with the case. I hoped, if it _did_ have to do with the case, he'd have the brains to tell me.

Finally, he asked, "What if there was a citizen withholding information from us? What would happen to them?"

"Did you lose your handbook?" I asked tiredly.

"I know they'd be in trouble. I just wonder how bad it would be."

"Well," I murmured, staring into the distance. "You saw what they did to _me_ , and I had the excuse of following L's orders."

God, I'd said that so many times I'd thought I would be sick. _I'm just following L's orders. I'm sorry, sir, I can't tell you. I'm following L's orders._

"Yeah…" Matsuda whispered, and kicked at the ground.

I waited for something more—ideally an explanation—but he seemed to be done.

"Who's withholding information, Matsuda?"

"Oh. I don't know. I just think it's weird we can't get anywhere on this case. It makes me wonder if someone's holding out."

"It's possible, I guess."

"No one trusts us. Maybe there are a lot of people withholding information. Maybe when they hear or see someone get shot they don't even tell us because they think Kira is justice and we're just in the way."

What a bleak idea. It would make getting anywhere absolutely impossible, and if it went on, the world would spin completely out of control.

I couldn't help whispering, "I hope not."

The coroner picked his way across the scene, toward us, a grave look on his face.

Slowly, I got to my feet.

"Excuse me, sir," he said when he reached us. "I just wanted to let you know three bodies have been recovered so far. Based on reports, we anticipate there may be five deaths in total."

"Are any of them male, aged around forty-five?"

"We haven't determined an age yet, but one of the bodies recovered did belong to an adult male. There was also a woman and a young child."

"Really?" Matsuda asked softly. "A kid?"

Rage and sadness stirred inside me. Some innocent child got killed today, just to send me another message. And Chiba… Unless we heard differently, we might have to assume it _was_ him.

"Thanks," I said to the coroner.

"We'll be in touch." He bowed and hurried away.

Matsuda looked up at the sky. "Maybe he wasn't home."

"You know," I growled. "Your flippancy makes me sick sometimes, Matsuda. Can't you take anything seriously?"

He just looked at me, sadly.

"Chiba's dead," I went on anyway. "That was the point of all this. That sick bastard wanted to kill one of us. Don't you get that?"

I expected him to mumble sorry, like he always did, and I knew I was in the wrong again, yelling at him for something outside of his control. I just couldn't stand the way this case was going.

Eyes burning, Matsuda suddenly faced me full-on. "This case is gonna turn around, Aizawa."

"I'm glad you're so sure, Corporal," I snorted when I got over my shock. "Too bad it couldn't turn around before Chiba died."

"I _am_ sure. I can feel it. We're going to find something that can help us figure this out."

I folded my arms against the cold, knowing better than to put much trust in Matsuda's mutable feelings. "You should give up the cop stuff and go be a promotional speaker instead. You'd be great at that—you're so goddamn cheerful."

He looked away again. "I know I can't make you feel better, just like you can't make me feel any better. But it's too early to give up."

I glared down at my ash-covered shoes, feeling like an asshole. "Who said I'm giving up?"

"Nobody. But I know you didn't ask to be in charge."

"No one ever does."

Quieter than ever, he admitted, "It's just that none of us want you to blame yourself."

I glanced at him again. "What, you guys talk about that?" It shouldn't come as a surprise, I thought. Especially after how unhinged I'd become last night, they must have discussed it behind my back, and I couldn't even feel annoyed with them for that. I knew I just had to do better.

He shrugged. "A little. Being in charge doesn't make any of this your fault, and getting stressed out and snapping at us doesn't make you a bad leader. Maybe it just means you could be a _better_ leader."

"Where's all this coming from?" I wondered.

Half-heartedly, he smiled. "I guess…I just kinda get it… Being in charge and knowing the people behind you are counting on you, knowing it's your responsibility to get them through the case safely… It isn't easy."

More bewildered than ever, I asked, "When have _you_ ever been in charge?" I didn't mean to sound like an asshole, it just wasn't something Matsuda would wake up understanding one day.

Sighing, he shoved his hands deep in his pockets. "I need to tell you something…"

"Matsuda!" a voice shouted.

We both turned to see a girl strutting up behind us, clutching tightly at her jacket, brown hair flying in the breeze. She was dressed like a boy, but even at a distance she was pretty.

Matsuda gaped. "Sayu? What are you doing here?"

 _Sayu?_ My mind spun. _Sayu Yagami?_

"Hey." Sayu approached us, brushing hair from her eyes. She looked incredibly serious compared to the few times I'd seen her in the past—before the kidnapping—and the gaze that touched mine was reminiscent of Soichiro's. "Hello, Aizawa-san."

I was so startled and distressed I couldn't do anything but nod and wonder what the hell she was doing.

"I saw you on the TV," she explained. "On the news. I wanted to make sure you're okay…"

With a quick look at me, Matsuda asked, "How did you know I'd still be here?"

She shrugged. "Just a hunch, I guess. I tried to call, but the number didn't work. Anyway, I'm sorry for dropping by like this."

Finally, I found my tongue. "It's not like you're not allowed."

From the way they both looked at me, I knew neither of them expected that, so I added, "It was nice of you to come check on him."

Gently, she smiled, nowhere near as bright as it used to be, but nonetheless sincere. "I wanted to check on you too, Aizawa-san."

Grinning, Matsuda pounded my shoulder for no apparent reason.

"Thanks," I muttered, but it facing her was hard now that I understood the full scope of what Light put his family through.

Sayu leaned forward and touched Matsuda's face. "Oh, your eye looks really bad. What happened?"

"This?" He touched it too, gingerly. "I fell."

"He's lying," I grumbled. "He got trashed somewhere, but he won't tell me how."

Sayu frowned. "Maybe you should tell him."

Matsuda stared at me a while, and I looked expectantly back at him.

"Yeah," he agreed. "Not right now, though. One of our guys might have been in this fire."

Her face paled. "Who? Not Mogi-san or Ide-san, right?"

"No. His name's Izanagi Chiba. We don't know for sure yet, but that's why we're here." He patted my shoulder again. "The captain thinks it's his fault; I don't wanna stress him out."

"I'm not stressed out," I snapped. "I'm worried. And if somebody beat you up, you should tell me."

"Nobody beat me up. I'm fine. I'll tell you about it later."

Grumbling, "you'd better," under my breath, I stared at the wrecked building again.

"Anyway." Sayu swung the little pack off her shoulders. "I brought you guys something." Without further ado, she produced a couple of bento boxes, handing them to us, along with juice boxes like the ones my kids drank. "It isn't much, but please accept it."

"Wow! Thanks, Sayu!" Matsuda said immediately. "This is awesome! I didn't even realize how hungry I was!" He tore his open immediately and started wolfing down onigiri with his fingers.

I realized I was starving also. It had to be past noon now, and we'd been here forever, waiting for news about Chiba. Having someone bring us food was an unexpected kindness.

"Thanks," I muttered, accepting my own box.

The three of us sat down on the curb and took a moment to eat.

"If you saw us on the news," I said in passing, "maybe Eriko did too…"

"If she was watching, yeah, probably." Sayu took a delicate bite of her onigiri. "You don't want her to know?"

I shrugged, not about to discuss my marriage with a kid.

"Maybe you should call and tell her you're okay," Matsuda suggested, draining his juice.

"Probably." What was my life coming to, getting advice from Matsuda?

After they'd finished eating, Matsuda made a point to get her number again and then started showing off his new phone.

"What happened to your old phone?" Sayu wanted to know.

I watched him from the corner of my eye, but he barely missed a beat as he answered, "Ah, I dropped it." Obviously, he didn't want her to know about the car bomb that almost claimed his life, and it was slightly more believable than his stupid coffee table story, but I'd never known him to tell so many lies.

"This is really nice," Sayu said, looking the phone over.

"I know, right? Check out the camera!"

It was absurdly expensive—of course—the newest piece of techno crap on the market, and it was just like him to go out and blow a ton of money on something like that and then get all excited about it. For a moment, it felt almost normal, but then again, he hadn't walked into the station bragging about it and taking pictures of himself the way he normally would, and the more attention I paid, the surer I felt he was faking at least a little.

All the same, Sayu ooed and ahhed over it. They took a couple dumb pictures together, and then, finally, I reminded him, "We're at the scene of a crime, Corporal. Show a little propriety."

With an embarrassed "sorry, Aizawa," he stuffed the phone away, and then Sayu announced, "By the way, I wanted to make sure our date is still on for tonight."

"You two are _dating_?" I demanded, possibly more surprised by that than anything else she'd done or said.

"It's just a casual thing," she told me.

Coming out here to see him because she couldn't get a hold of him on the phone didn't seem casual, and at the same time, if she was supposed to be his girlfriend, I would have thought he'd give her his new number the second he picked up the phone.

Also, last I knew, she was devastated by the deaths in her family, and I found it hard to believe she was up to date anyone, let alone one of her father's coworkers.

"So are we still on?"

"Um…" As he gave me another long look, I pretended to be interested in reading the ingredients of my juice box. "I don't know… I'm not really in the mood."

It was the wrong excuse to give a woman, but she'd been so thoughtful and polite so far, it really startled the hell out of me to hear her start whining. "Matsuda, you promised!"

"I-I know," he stammered, "but—"

"I bought a new outfit and everything! You can't cancel on me!"

"Yeah, but—"

"If you cancel, I'll never speak to you again!"

What the hell? I tried not to give her a weird look. Grief-stricken or not, throwing a fit like that seemed completely out of character.

 _I don't know her. She's not Soichiro._

Matsuda looked at her like he had no idea what to say, rubbing his neck and mumbling, "I guess if you put it that way… It's not fair to cancel just because I might be a little tired."

"So we're still going?"

He smiled. "Yeah. Of course."

"Yay!" she cheered, throwing her arms around his neck and kissing him on the cheek. "Pick me at the usual time, okay?"

Giving her a half-assed hug, he glanced nervously at me. "You got it."

After that, she packed up her empty bento boxes, carefully, into her backpack. "All right, well I better run. Bye, Matsu. Aizawa-san." She bowed to me. "Nice to see you again."

"You, too," I mumbled, forgetting my manners in the face of my confusion.

And then, with one last energetic wave, Sayu Yagami turned and started back the way she'd come, but there was something decidedly downcast about the way she walked.

Matsuda and I exchanged a look, and he was wincing, "Aizawa, she's just…"

"It's your life," I said flippantly. "I just think it's weird…"

"I think the chief would want us to be happy." He smiled triumphantly.

Soichiro had made it perfectly clear, on more than one occasion, that he'd never want Sayu dating a policeman, but I just said, "It's not great timing."

Smile dropping from his face, he looked away. "You're the one who said I should start dating again."

That was before any of this started, but I _did_ say it. "Like I said, I don't care." And then I couldn't help adding. "I just wonder if she's dating you for a selfish reason." I thought about the way she'd cried into his shirt on the night Misa died. Were they dating then?

"Like what?" he asked, all too innocently.

"Maybe she's just trying to distract herself. Or maybe she's looking for comfort."

"Sure. I guess."

"I mean… You could be doing the same thing."

One of his eyebrows shot up like he thought that was ridiculous. "You think? I would realize that though, wouldn't I?"

"Of course. Look." I turned to face him, lowering my voice. "She's Kira's sister. Don't you think that could get messy?"

For the first time, it seemed like I'd struck a chord, and he sounded subdued. "Yeah. It could get really, really messy if she finds out I shot him. Is that what you mean? I shouldn't mess around with Sayu because I killed her brother?"

My eyes widened. "You didn't kill anybody."

"But that's what everyone has to think, right? Including Sayu."

He said it with such calm matter-of-factness, it almost didn't sound like him, and I had no idea how to respond. Eventually, I just grumbled, "Do whatever you want, Matsuda. Just be careful."

Not answering, he looked up at the lingering smoke in the sky, forehead etching downward in a frown, and again I thought something didn't feel right. If he knew what a bad idea it was to get involved with Sayu, why would he do it?

To change the subject, I asked, "Are you gonna tell me who you were fighting with?"

"No. Not right now. I think I'd better wait."

I sighed and stared at the smoldering wreckage again. "Okay, just… Don't wait too long, Matsuda."

* * *

 **Matsuda**

Normally, I would have whined about my throbbing eye and the bruised, sore feeling in my body, but I'd kept quiet about it for as long as I was with Aizawa. My story about falling was stupid, I knew that, but that's what my mom had always told friends and neighbors, even though they must have known better, and it slipped out of my mouth automatically.

"Geez, what a day," I muttered, stumbling into my apartment to flop face down on my couch. Even after spending hours at the scene of the fire, there hadn't been any definite news about Chiba, but I smelled like smoke, my body was exhausted, my mind strained, and my heart felt sick. Still, until I knew for a fact Chiba was gone, I had to keep believing he was out there somewhere.

My phone rang, and I dug it out and put it to my ear without turning over, mumbling against the couch cushion, "Moshi-moshi…"

Sayu's voice said, "Hey, Matsuda… Just calling to say I hope I didn't get you in trouble today."

"Nah, he was cool about it." Relatively, anyway. I knew better than to think he actually approved of my dating Sayu Yagami.

"Also." She took a long pause. "I'm sorry about the way I acted. It was the only way I could confirm we're still on for tonight in front of him."

"No big deal."

"If you want to call it off, I'll understand."

I sat up, leaning back against the arm of my couch and shoving hair from my eyes. "Why would I do that?"

"I don't know." She paused like she hadn't expected the question. "It seems like you guys were having a hard day. Besides, you're already doing twice as much investigating as everyone else. If you need the rest, that's okay."

It did sound nice to veg out for the rest of the night, have a beer, go to bed early—much nicer than running out to investigate more—but I said, "No. We've got an important lead. We should follow it."

"All right." She sounded tired.

I added, "Unless _you_ don't feel like going."

"I'm still up for it if you are. I just wanted to make sure you know I won't be mad if you bail. I mean…we're _not_ dating."

"I get it," I mumbled. When she'd brought me bento today, it had almost felt like we were.

She must be thinking the same thing, because she spoke slowly, with a little nervousness in her tone. "Um…but maybe…as long as we're investigating together…we should keep pretending to date. It would give us a good excuse to run around together."

"That's true," I agreed, but I wasn't sure what to think. Was she genuinely talking about dating me, or was she just thinking like Light, finding the best scenario to use to her advantage?

I couldn't imagine her being manipulative and heartless like that, but after I kissed her last night, she must know she'd be able to get me to do anything.

Immediately, I shook that thought away. In the past I'd always trusted people. I wanted to trust Sayu.

Then again, Aizawa could be right. She might just be latching onto whoever she felt a connection to.

All the same, I was flattered to think that person could be me.

It was surprisingly hard to think about the situation logically, and my feelings kept getting in the way—I _did_ like her, and I wanted to go out with her. I felt better when I was with her. I'd been more myself these last couple of days, and she made me feel strong. How could I ignore any of that?

"Okay," I agreed. "We can pretend to date if you want."

"Great," she said, voice flat. I knew better than to think she was up for dating me for real. "You're picking me up at nine, right?"

"Yep." That was four hours away—plenty of time to get some food and take a shower.

"Sweet. See you then."

Once we'd say our goodbyes and hung up, I realized I actually felt pretty confused by the whole situation, so I flopped back down on the couch, thinking I might skip dinner and the shower to just take a nap instead.

I'd only just closed my eyes when my phone rang again. I answered it without opening them. "Moshi-moshi."

"Matsuda, it's me."

"Aizawa… If you tell me someone else is dead, I'll just scream and hang up on you."

"No. Everything's fine. Look, I know you just got home, but I want you to come with me to check something out."

"Like the new sushi place?"

"Is that a joke? No, of course not. We're gonna try and find your shotgun."

My eyes finally flicked open out of sheer surprise. "Wait. You wanna look for it right now?"

"We have a deadline."

If we had the energy to investigate around the clock, we should, but I couldn't help asking, "Why me?" It was a no brainer he'd rather work with Ide.

"You've been complaining about feeling left out."

"That's a weird reason."

I thought he sounded a bit flustered when he answered. "Look, it doesn't matter what the reason is. Do you want to or not?"

"I don't know…" I checked the time again, but it hadn't changed much since I talked with Sayu. "I'm supposed to go on a date, remember?"

"We'll be done in time."

It still made for a ridiculously long day if I went out with him and then went and investigated the exact same thing with Sayu. I'd have to say no to one of them, and I'd already confirmed everything with her.

Aizawa was actually qualified to investigate though, and turning him down might make him suspicious.

"All right," I agreed tiredly. "Let's do it."

"I'll be there in thirty."

Either thirty minutes passed quickly, or he must have sped the whole way to my apartment. By the time I took a quick shower and changed, he'd knocked on my door twice.

"Grab your badge and let's go," he said when I answered, and he didn't look interested in being delayed or distracted.

"What makes you think I've even had time to take my badge _off_?" I grumbled, pulling into my coat and following him out.

On the way, he didn't explain where we were going, and I felt too exhausted to ask any questions, but within the hour, we sat outside Yama's.

It looked deader than usual, and even a bit eerie in the gray light of a chilly day. My mind raced as I tried to find a way to get out of going in.

"Um… Aizawa, do you really think we'll find the shotgun here?"

"No, but we might find someone who knows about it. Let's go." The clouds had darkened with a threatening storm, but he put his sunglasses on as he stepped from the car.

I stayed. Telling him the truth would save him a ton of trouble, but there was no doubt in my mind he'd be really, incredibly, unbelievably pissed off at me.

Emotions interfering with my logic again.

"What's wrong?" he demanded, frowning into the car at me. "C'mon."

"I have something to tell you first," I said slowly. "Something important."

Even if I left Sayu out of it, _I_ was still going to get in trouble, but it seemed like the only thing I could do.

"I should have told you today, but you were in a bad mood—"

"I'm still in a bad mood," he warned.

Hopelessly, I looked up at his frowning face, groping for the right thing to say before he got impatient and licking my fat lip. The last thing I needed was to screw this up and say something stupid. "This…is where I got beat up."

Past his shades, it was impossible to tell what he was thinking, but I figured it must be a mixture of disbelief and anger, and even if it wasn't, it would be by the time I was done.

Talking for as long as I could, I told him the basic story of how I'd come across Koli—leaving Sayu out of it—and the way I'd traced the shotgun back here. I had to mention the fight, of course, without telling him how I'd almost gotten killed, but the more details I left out, the shorter the story became, and the deeper the lines between his eyebrows looked, so the more ridiculous inanities I had to add.

Finally, when I was just babbling about nothing, repeating myself, he pounded the roof of his car. "Dammit, Matsuda!"

I cringed, but he suddenly drew a sharp breath and turned away, hissing, "Are you insane?"

"It seemed like our only chance to find a real lead."

"That doesn't mean you go looking for it all alone." His voice rose, dangerously close to shouting. "And after I told you to be extra careful and everything!"

"I was just trying to help."

He paused again, cursing to himself instead of shouting at me, and studied the bar. "I'm not…mad at you," he said after a long time.

A bit skeptically, I asked, "Really?"

Aizawa shook his head. "I'm shocked. I mean, it was a stupid thing to do—it's exactly what I told you _not_ to do—but I wish you would have said something to someone."

I had to bite my tongue to keep from blurting out that I hadn't been alone. "You would have made me stay home, and I wouldn't have found anything at all."

Aizawa took his sunglasses off to rub the bridge of his nose, and I noticed the red rims around his eyes. "That isn't true."

"Yeah, okay. What _would_ you have done?"

"Backed you up, obviously." He glared into my eyes. "Two guys _just_ got shot right _there_ , Matsuda!" He jabbed a finger in the direction of the alley. "Why didn't you just tell me?"

Feeling dumb for thinking he wouldn't have backed me up, I sat quietly, afraid that if I even opened my mouth, the whole truth would spill out.

Aizawa waited a while for me to say something, and then he finally sighed and said, quieter, "I didn't want you investigating by yourself because I didn't want you to get your ass kicked." He gestured to my battered face.

"Hey…" I couldn't help feeling insulted. "How helpless do you think I am?"

Rolling his eyes, he stood up again, muttering under his breath. "It's not that. I'm your superior—I might have to send you into dangerous situations sometimes, but I'm not supposed to send you into situations where I _know_ you'll get hurt."

"You didn't send me anywhere," I reminded him.

Aizawa shrugged, but said sternly, "I'm responsible for you, Matsu. Do you get that?"

"Sorry," I murmured, feeling dumb all over again for endangering myself and Sayu. "Yeah… I do…"

Twice as stern as before, he said, "Don't do this ever again."

"Okay. I won't."

"I mean it, Matsuda."

"I know. I promise."

Satisfied, he got back into the car and insisted I tell him absolutely everything about my lead on Miyami and the conversation we'd had.

"You mean to tell me the guy who stepped in to save your ass just happened to be the guy you were looking for?" His face twisted with suspicion. "How convenient."

"Weird, right? He mentioned something about a shinigami also."

"Yeah…" he rubbed his goatee. "That's some coincidence."

I sat back in my seat, looking up at the dull sky. "What if it really is the notebook? Or even a different one?"

"I guess we'll find the bastard and bring him to justice." He said it in a dry but determined way that made me feel exhausted, because whatever this case was all about, nothing sounded worse than starting completely over at square one with a death note.

"God, I hope it isn't."

He hesitated and then said, "You told me everything now, right?"

It was my turn to pause, but this time it was purely because he'd been so edgy lately I thought the information might freak him out.

It didn't use to be that way, I remembered; sure, he'd always been a little high strung, but I would have thought he'd get better after the Kira case ended, not worse.

Aizawa, impatiently drumming his fingers on the steering wheel, studied the bar.

"Actually. While I was talking to Miyami…there were two guys in the booth behind us." I took a deep breath, half scared he'd explode. "They…were talking about _you_ , Ai."

He cocked his eyebrow and turned quickly to me, like he thought he'd heard wrong. "Me? Who were they?"

"I think maybe they're the guys who grabbed you at the vending machine last night."

He wanted a description of them, and as I explained what I'd seen and what they'd said, his eyes widened, and his mouth fell open little by little.

"Those bastards," he hissed.

"They sounded like they were planning what to do next," I said nervously. "About you… Since you didn't take their bribe."

"Bastards," he repeated.

"I don't know what we can really do with that information. I thought, _maybe_ , if I came back here and tried to find out who they were, we could at least get some kind of clue to what they want."

He kept rubbing his chin a while. "Sounds like as good a place to start as any… Good job, Corporal."

Last time he said that to me, it nearly put me up on cloud nine, but at the moment, the situation seemed too dire to get very excited about it.

"Yeah, but now that you're here, I'm not sure I can do that."

It took him a second, but he scowled at me again. "Wait. What is that supposed to mean? I'm trying to help you, Matsuda."

"No one in this bar knows I'm a cop—at least, I don't think they do. If they find out, there's no way we'll get any information out of them." Automatically, I touched my eye. "This isn't a cop-friendly area."

"What are you saying?" he demanded. "We've gotta pretend to be unnaturally curious citizens to find anything out around here?"

"Well, it worked last time." I thought about Momo. On the day of the carjacking, he'd been almost a different person from the guy who'd given Sayu a free cosmo. No way he'd cooperate with a hard nose like Aizawa. "I think we should give it a shot."

Aizawa groaned, "This better not backfire."

* * *

 **Aizawa**

"This was way too easy," I grumbled, staring through the stone gate at Rei Manor. Compared to the older houses around it, it looked strange, blending a traditional aesthetic with modern architecture, tiered, but with a flat roof, built mainly out of glass, but with a wooden engawa on the first floor, where the amado were still shut for the winter. Clusters of naked sakura trees, thickets of pine, sculpted bushes, and a huge koi pond made the front side of the estate look like a garden.

"What's a guy this rich doing hanging out at a place like Yama's?" Matsuda wondered.

That was just one of many questions rattling through my mind now. When we'd entered the bar, Matsuda hadn't had a single problem getting the information he'd wanted from that knuckleheaded bartender; stupid as it seemed, calling the man an old friend and describing his physical appearance had been enough. In fact, it seemed suspicious to me just how eager the bartender had been to help us out.

All the same, Atashi Rei was the name he'd given us, and a quick Google search was all it took to discover his Chiyoda address.

Frowning, I remembered the gold-plated cigarette case I'd been offered at the Kirei Kumotte. No doubt about it, this _could_ be the same person who'd had me held at gun point yesterday, but we didn't have any grounds to bring him—or the Miyami guy Matsuda had told me about—in for questioning.

"Momo said this guy is a forger," Matsuda said at last, also studying the gate. "Looks like he makes a ton of money."

Perhaps the craziest part of this so far was that Momo had blurted _that_ detail out at all. Thanks to Matsuda's half-baked plan, he hadn't realized—more like was _ignoring_ —the fact that we were the NPA, but it still struck me as odd that he'd rat on Atashi Rei's big-time forging business.

"The other day," I asked suddenly, "did you tell that bartender your name and show him your badge?"

Matsuda hesitated; either he couldn't remember, or he thought I'd be mad at him. "I'm not totally sure," he admitted at last.

Being that it was Matsuda, I had no trouble believing him.

With a sigh, I rubbed my forehead. On one hand, I had a lot more to go off than I had this morning, but on the other, I got the feeling we were walking right into a trap.

"So what are we gonna do?" Matsuda asked when it was clear I had nothing to say. "This guy basically kidnapped you. Can we arrest him?"

Reluctantly, I studied him. In the shadows of twilight, the black eye looked like it was bound to swallow his whole face, and I regretted, more than anything, that he'd obviously gotten hurt investigating alone because he didn't trust me.

His eyebrows lifted. "Ai?"

"I didn't see his face—I can't arrest him. Just like we can't arrest Miyami for simply _saying_ he once had a shotgun. We've got nothing."

"But if this guy's a forger, don't you think he could have made the fake NPA IDs we found at the Shinjuku Prince?"

"Even if he did, that doesn't mean he killed them; all it really explains is why he tried to bribe me in the first place."

Thoughtfully, his lips puckered together. "How?"

"He _might_ know who the killer is."

"That's really good." His eyes lit up at the words. "Right?"

"It's great," I muttered, but I felt more stressed than ever as I looked at the gate again. "We still don't have any cause to arrest him, so unless he's willing to admit it outright…" I thought about our bizarre conversation in the café, but that man hadn't been interested in telling me anything. "No. Our only chance in hell at pinning him right now is if I see his bodyguard again. There's a fucker I _can_ arrest."

I seriously doubted we'd get that lucky, but we left the car and strolled to the gate; if anything, we might be able to pressure Rei into saying something about the IDs. Assuming he wasn't our killer, he might cooperate just to save his own skin.

Once we got permission to pass through the gate, we crossed an arching bridge over the koi pond and followed a wide path to the house, lit by stone lanterns.

"According to Google," Matsuda said, looking at his phone again, "Atashi Rei donates to a ton of charities in Tokyo. He even donates to _us._ "

"Oh, terrific," I growled. "It's bad enough we don't have anything on him, now we're marching up to his house to accuse a well-known NPA supporter of participating in a mass shooting."

For a moment, he stayed silent, but as we approached the engawa, he suddenly whispered, with the usual enthusiasm, "Wait, that's good too! If we offer this guy police protection, he might give us the information we need!" It sounded like he was really proud of himself for coming up with it.

"We'll see," I muttered, thinking I didn't feel inclined to offer this bastard anything, and then I rang the doorbell.

Even though we'd had to buzz through the gate, they made us wait outside for several minutes, and I got impatient. Rain was threatening to fall, and the sky was getting too dark to wear sunglasses, and standing there gave me the opportunity to second guess myself at least a dozen times over again. This wasn't the smartest way to handle the situation—Atashi Rei had threatened me once already—but we didn't have time to do every little thing by the books right now. I'd _wanted_ to do this case by the books, but hell, with one of my detectives already running wild, getting into fights and making friends with scum bags, I might as well think outside the box. For all I knew, letting Matsuda have a happy, little chat with this guy _could_ get us what we needed.

Of course, I didn't dare forget that the idiot had put himself in plenty of danger snooping around all by himself. Even though I'd come to expect that sort of carelessness from him, it was a little bit too much, and I couldn't shake the idea that there had to be more to it than what he'd told me.

In the end, I felt torn over it. On one hand, it was good to see him getting some motivation and energy back; the last time he acted this way, Hideki's so-called Matsuda Void had been apparently dispelled by his buying a new sound system, so I'd known getting involved in something would help him through this new iteration of out-of-character disquiet. I just wished it wasn't this case, in which he appeared to be at risk as much as anything else, and at this point, I had serious doubts that dating Sayu Yagami would help either, but at least he'd been happy to see her earlier.

When we'd been waiting almost five minutes, Matsuda sighed. "Maybe we should just sneak in and look around for business records."

Floored, I glared at him. "You know, I don't like the way you've been thinking lately, Corporal." A suggestion like that went beyond his frustration with me. "What is going on with you?"

"I just think it would be faster."

"You're that worried about time? When is this date anyway?"

"It's not about the date. It's about the case."

"Well, it's still _illegal_ , Matsuda. The world can hate us all it wants, but we're still the police, and—"

Not so much as creaking, the front door popped open, and an old man wearing an expensive suit looked down his nose at us like we were a couple of dirty kids come to say our ball had bounced into his back yard. "Can I help you?" he asked stiffly.

I flashed my badge. "Good evening. I'm Captain Shuichi Aizawa—"

"Corporal Touta Matsuda," Matsuda said quickly, fumbling with his badge, as if to prove to me he _could_ do things by the books.

"We're with the NPA—"

"Is Atashi Rei-san around?"

The man's eyes narrowed, and he sniffed, "I'm afraid he's not home."

Matsuda leaned around to stare into the lobby, trying to see the rest of the house, but there was nothing there but a long, dark hallway.

The butler stepped in front of him to block his view and said in an irritated voice, "I can deliver your message when he returns."

"I'd rather speak with him in person," I explained. I couldn't wait to see the look on that smug bastard's face when I strolled into his big, fancy house, still wearing my shoes.

"When will he be back?" Matsuda wondered.

"He's on vacation for several weeks," sneered the butler, "but you're welcome to wait if you like."

"Can't we just come in and look around?"

I shot him a warning look.

"Preposterous. You have some audacity, young detective."

"Fine," I muttered. "We'll call back—"

The door slammed in my face before I got a chance to say later.

"Geez. He wasn't very friendly," Matsuda complained.

Rolling my eyes, I started back up the path just as a rain drop hit me on the head. "Another dead end."

"Wait a sec, Aizawa."

I glanced back to see him sneaking around the corner of the house and over to the inner fence that separated the front courtyard from the rest of the property. "Matsuda!" I hissed. "Where do you think you're going?"

"I just wanna take a look at something." He stripped his jacket off and stood back to examine the trees nearest to the fence.

Throwing a tentative glance at the door, I trotted over to him. "Matsuda, _no_. We're not breaking into someone's house!"

Still, he sprang up to catch a low-hanging branch and haul himself over.

I managed to snag his ankle, trying to yank him down, but he kicked me off and scrambled over the fence, landing more smoothly than I expected him to.

"Matsuda!"

Dusting himself off, he straightened up. "Toss my jacket over, would'ja?"

"No. I'm gonna kick your ass. I'm gonna suspend you. Get back over here—if you get caught it'll ruin everything!"

"You can't suspend me." He looked wide-eyed at me. "Can you?"

"I can damn well kick you right off this case if you don't do what I tell you. Now come back."

He didn't seem concerned. "At least watch it for me," he said over his shoulder, hugging the wall to sneak deeper into the back yard.

"I'm not watching anything for you! I'll leave you here—I swear I will!" I tried to keep my voice down, despite how quickly I was losing patience, and I glanced hurriedly at the front door again.

Matsuda rounded the corner and vanished from sight.

"Dammit! Matsuda!" I hissed, as loudly as I dared. "Matsuda, come back!"

No use. When did he get so damn stubborn?

Cursing under my breath, I scanned the estate and then the empty street. The rain was picking up, and the sky was getting darker, but I couldn't actually leave him here.

Removing my jacket as well, I picked his up and threw both over the fence. I made sure my holster was secure and my gun was strapped in, and then I too jumped up and caught the branch. It was easy enough to swing myself over the fence, but I landed a little rougher than he had, snatched up the jackets, and went after him, with half a mind to knock some sense into him.

Being pressed for time didn't give us free range to take illegal measures whenever we felt like it. Matsuda must have gotten used to the lax way the Kira investigation had been run, and I'd have to remind him later, very firmly, that this wasn't the way I ran things.

The wall of the house was much longer than it looked, and the further I went, the darker it seemed, but I found no sign of Matsuda. Surely he hadn't gotten caught already.

 _That moron._

Slinging the jackets over my shoulder, I hissed into the shadows, "Matsuda!"

I kept one eye on the windows to my left. All it took was for one maid to glance out and notice me.

"Dammit, where are you?"

At last, I reached the corner of the house and entered the wide garden of the backyard. Everywhere I looked, there were hedge sculptures and fountains and koi ponds, all inexplicably green for the season.

As I turned the corner, I ran straight into Matsuda, so hard I nearly fell down.

"Dammit!"

He rubbed his head. "Hey. What are you doing here?"

Adjusting my sunglasses, I scowled. "You make it sound like you haven't seen me in days! Didn't you hear me calling?"

"Yeah, but I think I found something important." He beamed at me.

"What's that?" I snorted, glancing carefully around.

Matsuda pointed directly above us. "Check it out."

Through the brightly lit window half a story over my head, I saw a fat man sitting at a desk, gazing absently out at the garden. He was a few years older than me, with a sharkish quality to his mouth, and bug-eyes that never seemed to blink. The butler stood over him.

"That's the man I saw last night," Matsuda explained.

"Atashi Rei," I grumbled. He definitely looked like he could be the man I'd talked to at the Kirei Kumotte. "So he had his butler lie about not being home."

"I think they were talking about us. I mean, I can't read lips very well, but I think the butler came in and told him what we wanted."

I rubbed my chin. My goatee was getting just a little too long. "A forger who'd rather bribe the cops than answer their questions. He has to have something to do with the case." But if we couldn't get him to even meet with us, we'd have to somehow catch him in the act, and that might be tough now that he knew we were onto him.

For a while longer, we watched. Matsuda asked, "Can't we bring him in for something else and question him about it then?"

"We could try it, but it's completely possible he has no idea who he made the IDs for." Sighing, I pulled into my jacket again and turned the collar up to keep the rain off my neck. Matsuda's shaggy hair was already soaked and hanging in his eyes. I handed him his coat. "Let's get out of here. There's not much the two of us can do on our own."

As I turned to lead the way out, a black dog with a blunt snout full of clean teeth prowled out of the shadows, blocking our path.

"Oh," I groaned. "Oh, shit." Automatically, I scanned the yard for others, or worse, handlers, while the dog stood snarling and quivering with anticipation.

Matsuda bumped against my shoulder. "Is that a Doberman?"

So far, there seemed only to be one, and it wasn't advancing yet. "I-I think it's a Rottweiler. What the hell does it matter?"

"It looks mean… N-nice doggy."

Deep rumbling rose from the back of the dog's throat. One bark, and my career as a police detective would come crashing to an end _._

"What now?" Matsuda had pressed himself back against the wall of the house, hand on his gun.

"Oh, you don't have any more brilliant ideas today, Corporal?"

The tight tone of terror in his voice clashed against the glib words, "It's your turn to come up with something."

All I could think was that, _hopefully_ , the dog was trained to attack only on command, which would give us a narrow window of opportunity for escape.

Tongue lolling, the dog prowled forward, ready to tear into us. Tentatively, I fingered my gun, but we'd be in enough trouble for trespassing without also shooting someone's dog.

"On the count of three," I said with a sharp breath, "run that way. We'll try to find another way out."

"Wh-what if there isn't one?"

"Double back the way we came. Ready?"

He didn't _look_ ready. His skin had gone white as a sheet, and his eyes were terror-stricken, but he muttered, "Yeah. Okay."

"One…"

The dog snarled, and I clenched my fists.

"Two…"

It sprang toward us, teeth bared.

Scrambling, I rammed my shoulder against Matsuda, and he bolted.

Behind us, the dog's guttural bark broke through the deathly silence in the garden, and immediately after that, I heard voices shouting from across the yard. A light in the house turned on, but I was completely absorbed by the feel of the dog nipping at my heels.

Running over the uneven ground and weaving around bushes and boulders was just a reminder that I wasn't young anymore, and one trip would mean getting my ass chewed.

A voice boomed, "Stop right there!"

Ahead of me, Matsuda cleared a bush in one easy spring; when I jumped it a second later, my foot snagged in the branches, and I stumbled against my partner.

More voices and barking clouded the night—there was definitely more than one dog now, and at least two guards. I couldn't even imagine how we'd be able to explain what we'd been doing to the commissioner if we got caught, but more importantly, there was no telling what Rei himself might do. Refusing to back off the investigation was one thing—snooping around his house was another, and no one knew we'd come here. He might put a bullet in my ear this time.

I was in good shape for my age, and typically had high stamina, but I wasn't quick like Matsuda. Already he'd gotten at least ten meters in front of me, gaining more and more distance.

A brick wall came into view ahead of us, veiled behind hedges and overgrown with thick vines. My heart jolted at the sight; if we could only find a gate, we might be able to get the hell out of here.

I chanced a look over my shoulder.

Shouldn't have. Three guys in black were after us, with two dogs racing ahead of them, snapping at my heels. If I lost even a little bit of my momentum, they'd have me.

Matsuda reached the wall, and I watched him leap up and grab the edge to pull himself easily to the top. He finally turned to look at me, seemingly surprised to find me so far behind. "Hurry up!" he called.

"Easy. For. You. To. Say," I panted. The wall had to be three meters tall, and unlike the fence we'd climbed earlier, there were no nearby tree branches to help me up. Rain streamed down steadily, making the bricks wet.

 _There's no way in hell…_

I was about to call out and tell Matsuda to meet up with me later when he dropped to a kneel on the top of the wall, bracing himself with one arm and holding the other hand out to me. "Come on!"

Anyway, it was worth a shot.

Digging deep, I found one last burst of speed, and sprinted straight for the bricks. It wasn't so different from the obstacles Ide and I had had to clear back in our academy days, but I'd been almost twenty years younger then, and as I threw myself against the wall, kicking and snagging at his hand, I half worried I'd just drag him down with me.

Our eyes met. His were hard as rock and flashing with unexpected courage, and his hand clenched mine firmly. He pulled, and I pushed, shoes scrabbling against the slick stone, and the next thing I knew, I was right beside him, fighting the urge to stare at him in awe.

"Stop!" the guards shouted.

Matsuda slid off the other side and landed roughly, but I dove right after him, collapsing to my knees. We sprang up at the same time and tore away, back toward the car.

Breathing hard, I fumbled with the automatic lock, and we scrambled inside.

"Go, go, go, go, go!" Matsuda shouted, pounding his hand against the dash over and over.

"I _am_ going, goddammit!" I jammed the key into the ignition and turned it over. The engine roared to life, and I peeled away before my door was even closed, flying around the first corner I came to, and staring into the rearview mirror.

Matsuda twisted in his seat to look back and stayed that way a while, even though no one was following us, and I took corners at random.

Finally, he faced forward again and slumped back in his seat. "Whew. That was close."

I glanced in the mirror again, heart still pounding, gasping for breath. "Next time you suddenly feel like wandering onto someone's private property— _don't!_ You almost got us caught!"

He turned to me. "You were the one who almost didn't make it over the wall."

"I'm getting old!" I touched my chest, thinking I was fortunate to not be having a heart attack right now.

"I saved your butt though."

Gritting my teeth, I yelled, "Are you kidding me, Matsuda?"

"What? That dog woulda had you if it weren't for me."

"If it weren't for you, that dog wouldn't have been chasing me in the first place! Don't you think before you do _anything_?"

"Sorry," he said flippantly. He'd gotten way too used to being let off easy for a lame apology. "But hey, we got some useful information."

"We didn't get _anything_! So the guy lied about being out of town—that doesn't mean a damn thing."

"That's not what you said back there. C'mon, we're way better off than we were yesterday. Isn't that _something_?"

"It wouldn't have done us much good if we'd gotten caught; You need to think these idiotic ideas through a little better."

With a nervous laugh, he combed his fingers through his wet hair. "Y-yeah… I'll work on that."

We were coming out of the neighborhood at last, and I noticed a fast food place up ahead. It was well past six now, and I hadn't eaten since Sayu brought us lunch, so I whipped into to the drive thru, still speeding.

Matsuda looked around in surprise. "Fast food? You never eat fast food."

"I'm old," I grumbled again. "I'm fucking old. And I'm fucking hungry." I half-shouted my order into the speaker—I hated the way it seemed like they could never hear what I said—and then glared at him. "Well?"

I wasn't at all in the mood for the blank expression he gave me.

"Are you getting something, or are you gonna wait for your date with Sayu?"

"Oh, right." He jammed his fingers through his hair again. "That. I'm probably gonna cancel that. No point in having _too_ much fun, right?"

"She didn't seem to think it was optional this afternoon," I told him.

The kid on the other side of the speaker asked me if I wanted anything else again.

"Hold on," I called back, and then grumbled, "Damn, I hate fast food."

Matsuda leaned over me to shout his order into the speaker, and then said casually, "I think she'll understand."

When we pulled up to the window, I handed the kid my card, and then watched Matsuda search his jacket pockets, inside and out, and then his pant pockets, front and back, and then his jacket again, before finally looking sheepishly at me. "Uh… I don't think I have my wallet."

"What about your ID? You had it at Rei's house, didn't you?"

Frowning, he checked each of his pockets all over again. "I don't remember," he mumbled.

"I reminded you and everything. Where is it, Matsuda?"

"At home, I guess."

"It's not at _home_ ," I argued. "You showed it to the butler."

"Look, you don't have to pay for my—"

"That isn't the point. How could you think that's the point? It had better not be in that fucker's garden!"

Matsuda's face twisted upward with worry. "You don't think it is, do you?"

"It's _your_ wallet! You're supposed to know."

He spent a moment fidgeting with the seatbelt before saying, "I'm sure it's at home."

I felt sure it wasn't, but we certainly couldn't go back to Rei's house and ask for it. I sighed and rubbed the bridge of my nose, only to discover I must have lost my sunglasses somewhere in the escape.

"You dropped something too," Matsuda pointed out.

"It's not the same at all. If that guy has your wallet, he'll know exactly who you are."

"Doesn't he know anyway? We told the butler our names."

"Dammit… Matsuda, why did you _do_ that? I told you not to! Why the hell did you think it was a good idea to—"

At that moment, the food came, so I had to hold off on yelling at him to accept it and be polite to the kid inside as she wished us a good evening. I stayed silent as I pulled around in the parking lot to eat, muttering, "Don't get ketchup all over my car; that's the least you could do." After that, I decided I was too hungry to finish tearing his head off, and it wouldn't solve anything anyway, so I dug into my hamburger instead. It really had been a while since I had fast food, and I'd forgotten how good it could taste. We ate for several minutes in absolute silence.

"What now?" Matsuda asked between bites. "Do you think he'll call in and complain about us?"

"Hard to say." I couldn't think of any reason why he _wouldn't,_ other than he was a criminal and might not want to draw attention to himself. "It'll definitely limit our options if he feels like we're harassing him. We'd have better luck tailing Miyami."

"You really think he might be the killer?"

"He has to be _something_." Telling Matsuda he'd found the shotgun in the dumpster was a brazen lie, so either he believed Matsuda was dumb enough to buy it, or it was part of the trap I felt like we were walking into.

Judging by his unconcerned expression, _he_ didn't feel like we were walking into a trap. "Do you think we can figure all this out in five days?" he asked, cramming a handful of fries into his mouth.

"We're not getting far enough fast enough," I grumbled. "For all we know, Rei was hired at random and Miyami honestly found the gun in the dumpster."

Suddenly, my food seemed unappealing.

He'd stopped eating too. "If L were alive, I'll bet he could do it, or Near, or…" Some of the glow faded from his eyes, so he must be thinking about Light.

"We don't need Near," I reminded him, hoping to distract him. He'd been doing better today, and I'd like to keep it that way. "I'll be damned if it's not one of the most convoluted cases I've ever seen, but it's not Kira."

"Yeah, it just all seems so risky."

"We can't rely on anyone else to solve this for us," I told him sternly. "It's us, or nothing—we learned that in yesterday's meeting."

"I know." He spent some time staring out at the rain before he went on. "I'm just not tough like you are."

During the Kira investigation, he'd said something similar, even going so far as to call himself a weak person and use it as an excuse for believing in Kira. I hadn't thought much of it at the time—he _wasn't_ a tough guy—but today, when I'd looked into his eyes as he was dragging me over the wall, a weak person had not stared back at me.

"I do rely on other people to solve my problems for me," he went on, "and I've never been good at sticking up for myself. I mean…there's a reason you're where you are, and I'm not."

"What are you talking about?"

Matsuda shook his head, like he was trying to clear away some dark thought. "I just don't think that _you_ could ever really get the way any of this feels."

With a sigh, I sat back in my seat. Rivulets of rainwater gushed over the windshield, and it suddenly seemed like it was January 28th all over again. "You're not talking about this case… Are you?"

"No," he agreed, quietly.

Ever since I was a kid, I faced my challenges head on, disregarding my own uncertainty—that was just my life—but maybe to Matsuda that did make me seem tough. He'd given me the impression that he'd spent a lot of his life being little more than a doormat.

"I don't know, Matsuda," I said in a while. "I've seen you do things I don't think just anyone could do."

"That's what I mean though," he said unexpectedly. "I did it… But I can't handle the way it feels."

Slowly, I turned to him again, frowning. His eyes were strangely wide as he stared out, like he was remembering something that truly horrified him. "You wouldn't… If you'd done it…I think you'd be okay."

"Who knows," I murmured. At the station, most of my fellow officers seemed to believe I _had_ killed Kira; even at my meeting yesterday, they'd accused me of trying to cover my own ass. I felt glad it wasn't me, though. That day and those events had obviously altered Matsuda as a person, and I didn't think he saw any of it the way the rest of us did.

 _That damn notebook… Just what did it accomplish other than to destroy_ _the lives of everyone it came into contact with?_

"It doesn't seem to bother you guys," Matsuda muttered. "The fact that he betrayed us."

The words felt a little like being punched.

I had _so_ wanted Light to not be Kira. My loyalty to Soichiro Yagami had made it difficult to even think of suspecting his son of crimes so heinous, but knowing Light on a personal level, from a teenager to a superior, and having that person I'd thought I knew betray me, that was the part that really ate at me even now. Even worse, when I remembered how insane he'd been in the end, how desperate he'd turned, almost completely different from the man I'd known the last six years, a furious sort of hurt always started simmering inside me.

"Let's not talk about this," I decided, knowing better than to delve into that feeling.

Matsuda didn't seem to hear me. "He would have killed us… If Near hadn't found out about the fake notebook… If I hadn't shot him… He wanted us dead."

Yes, that impossibly intelligent young man we'd all trusted, that handsome, charming thoughtful leader who'd always seemed to have the answers, that _murderer_ with the entire world at his fingertips would have killed us all. There had been no sign of how twisted up and rotten his soul was, not until the very end.

I was startled to hear Matsuda laugh, and I looked suddenly at him, but the expression of horror had vanished. "Hey, speaking of being tough—you should have seen the look on your face. It's been a long time since I saw you that freaked out."

Even though I knew he was just trying to change the subject, I grinned back at him, struggling not to choke. "C'mon, I was running for my life. Give me some slack."

"I just don't know if it's okay for the chief of police to be afraid of dogs."

"You were running too, Matsuda."

"I'm not trying to get promoted." He smirked at me, and I saw how desperately he was trying to cover up the hurt festering inside him.

"Yeah, well you better watch it," I teased, starting the car. "I might just put you on the K9 unit."

"That wouldn't be so bad," he grinned. "I might get to work with the Chihuahua!" And then he laughed again, and even though I knew he wasn't really okay, that was good to hear.


	9. Chapter 9

**Sayu**

* * *

Matsuda called me at a quarter past eight to cancel our plans for the night. Even though I'd recently confirmed it with him, I listened patiently as he explained what happened, trying not to feel disappointed.

Investigating with Aizawa would be much easier on him—he'd have someone to really watch his back, and he wouldn't have to worry about keeping me from harm—as much as I didn't want to give up on the case, his safety was more important; solving the case was more important. Just because sleuthing around had given me purpose for the first time in weeks didn't mean I deserved to keep working with Matsuda.

"All right," I agreed when he'd finished his story. "But could you at least tell me about the lead you found last night? I've been dying to know."

Matsuda hesitated. Technically, he shouldn't be sharing information with me, and I understood that, but I would be a bit offended if he chose not to tell me.

Finally, he agreed that would be okay and explained about the men he'd overheard discussing Aizawa.

My heart rate picked up as he related the story of how those same men had pulled a gun on Aizawa at the vending machine, trying to intimidate him into doing poorly on the investigation. That on top of losing a detective in a house fire today. I had known this case was dangerous simply because there were illegal firearms involved, but I hadn't realized the detectives were in such danger already.

"I'm glad Aizawa-san is okay," I murmured, thinking about how tense he'd seemed earlier today. Even when my father was alive, I hadn't been around Aizawa a great deal, but I always remembered his somewhat salty demeanor. Today, though, he'd seemed more agitated than usual.

"We think maybe this Atashi Rei guy was the one who made the NPA IDs we found at the Prince Hotel site."

So the cops murdered at the hotel weren't even real cops. Not even the media knew that. Matsuda would probably feel really stupid if he realized he shouldn't have blurted that out, so I declined to comment.

He went on to tell me about how they'd tried to see Rei at his house, and vaguely mentioned that Rei had lied about being out of town to avoid talking to them.

It was disheartening. All the work he'd done, and the pain he'd been through, and they still hadn't been able to use any of the leads he'd come up with.

"Aizawa talks like we can't arrest him," Matsuda said. "I guess he's right."

"You don't even know for sure that he's a forger," I pointed out. "Momo could be lying, or just plain wrong."

"We're going to tail Miyami for now. Hopefully that'll get us somewhere."

My stomach twisted as I thought about Hiro Miyami. On the surface, he'd seemed like a nice guy, but he obviously supported Kira, and when I thought about the way he'd talked to Matsuda—so friendly and casual—compared to the slyness in his black eyes, I couldn't help but distrust him.

"What did you say the forger's name is again?"

"Rei," he said hesitantly. "Atashi Rei."

"I think I've heard of him." I slipped into my computer chair and opened the internet to search his name.

"Aizawa and I found out he's a charity donor. Plus his record's squeaky clean."

I studied the picture of Rei that had come up. Just as I suspected.

"Matsuda, a while ago, before you joined the NPA, probably, this guy held a huge charity event for the police. My dad was there. There's even a picture of them together." I looked sadly at the image of my young, warm father. He'd always been serious, but as he shook hands with Rei for the press photo, he was actually smiling and looking proud, receiving a check from the man. He'd not been chief for very long at that point, and there was so much more life in his eyes than I felt I'd ever seen.

Matsuda wondered faintly, "Why didn't Aizawa tell me that?"

"He probably thinks it doesn't matter very much; if anything, he must know it'll make Atashi Rei harder to arrest than ever."

Both of us stayed quiet a moment before I asked, "What are you going to do?"

"What can I do? Aizawa's not going to arrest this guy without a reason."

Wise at least. If Rei was smart enough to cozy up to the police as insurance, he must also be smart enough not to keep any detailed records of his forgery business, and if the NPA arrested him without hard evidence, they'd not only get sued, they'd look worse than ever.

"We have to think of something," Matsuda mused, sounding like he was talking to himself. "We only have five days."

 _The only thing they could do is try to trick him into a confession…but that would be risky._ Surely a man who'd cozied up to the police would be relatively familiar with them, and if he was keeping an eye on this investigation, he might even know who all was working on it.

"What happens in five days?" I asked.

Matsuda started to answer, but faltered at the last second. "Don't worry about it."

I suspected, not for the first time, that he was keeping some aspect of the case from me.

"Are we going out tomorrow night?" I asked after a pause.

He paused also, and I could all but hear him thinking. "I'm not sure. Now that Aizawa's involved, I don't know if I can."

"I understand," I said, struggling, again, to mask my disappointment.

He must have noticed though, because he went on, "Aizawa's paying attention to Miyami and Rei now—he'll notice us sneaking around together—and it's not just that. Our guy in the fire today..." He sounded so tired as he spoke those words, and he paused a long time before husking, "Whoever's behind all this is watching us, ready to kill anyone who gets in his way."

Very calmly, I said, "I think that's why I can help though, Matsuda." It was easier to stay calm these days. Getting upset or overly excited took too much energy, and I wondered if I could ever be the girl I used to be again. "He doesn't know me."

"Yeah, but I don't want you to get hurt."

"I don't want you to get hurt either," I told him. "But that's part of the risk, and if there's some way for me to help you guys solve this case within the next five days, I want to do it."

I heard him fidgeting with his phone. "Sayu… I know you think this case is about Kira, but it isn't."

After I'd seen the message in Misa's room, and then on the news, I'd promised myself that if there was a snowball's chance in hell that Kira might still be alive, I was going to risk everything I had left to find him and finish him.

Along the way, it looked less and less like it had anything to do with Kira, but I'd found something else. Being with Matsuda and trying to help him distracted me from my losses. Seeing him with Aizawa today, both of them looking so tired and so one-hundred-percent done, filled me with compassion, and in my mind one thought overshadowed nearly everything else.

Not only had these four detectives worked with my father and brother, they'd been personal friends with them, and they'd risked their lives to catch Kira while the rest of the NPA hid, too afraid to do anything; now, not two months later, here they were, up to their necks in a black arms case, as if they hadn't even been allowed to have a break before going back into the fight.

The emotional damage my brother's death had caused Matsuda was evident in his physical appearance. Aizawa was exhausted, and today he'd even hinted that he might be having problems with his wife. The Kanzo Mogi who'd showed up at my house the night of Misa's suicide was utterly distraught, despite how quickly and carefully he'd hidden it. Even Hideki Ide didn't look as cool and relaxed as he always had in the past. Still, they kept fighting.

Dad would be so proud of them.

"It's not about Kira," I told Matsuda finally. "Not completely. It's about you, and the other three."

He didn't seem to know what to say to that.

"I appreciate that you want to protect me," I added. "And I know that part of the reason you feel that way has to do with my mother, and with what my father would think. I respect that more than you realize, but I still want to help, so if there's anything I can do, please don't hesitate to tell me."

"All right," he agreed at last. "I'll keep you filled in as much as I can."

I smiled half-heartedly, and we were both quiet a long time, before I told him, gently, "You should get some sleep. I'm sure you're tired."

"I am," he agreed, and the exhaustion and pain in his voice filled me with agony.

"I'll talk to you later, Matsu. Take care of yourself."

After we hung up, I sat looking at the picture of Dad standing with Atashi Rei. I had only just been born when it was taken, and I barely remembered those days. I wished like everything I could go back in time and see him once more.

And Light…

My dear big brother. He'd had so much promise. I would never have let him know, but I worshipped the ground he'd walked on, and the love I had for him even past the grave stung like a splinter of glass in my heart.

 _What would you do, Anikun?_

Light would do it all somehow. He'd look after Mom and me; he'd pay the bills so we could stay in this house; he'd work around the clock on this investigation even if it didn't have anything to do with Kira; he wouldn't let sleeze balls like Rei and Miyami get in his way. Light would fix everything.

Light was gone though, and there was no one left but me.

Quietly, I went downstairs to the kitchen, where Mom sat at the table with a real estate magazine open in front of her. Her eyes looked distant, and I knew Dad and Light occupied her mind so utterly there was hardly room for anything else in there.

Hoping the sound of my voice might ease her pain, I spoke up. "My date just called to cancel. I guess it was a rough day at work."

Mom hadn't said much earlier when I told her I had a date, but I knew she found it odd that I was looking for someone so shortly after the deaths of my father and brother. Hopefully, she'd just be grateful to know I was trying to keep living the best I could.

 _I'm not_. I reminded myself. _I'm not dating anyone. I'm pretending so I can investigate a dangerous criminal case._

Thinking about it that way filled me with shame, and I wondered if maybe I should leave well enough alone and let the police handle it.

Blinking like she'd just woken up, Mom said, softly, "That's too bad. Another time, maybe?"

"Sure, I think so." I got out the rice cooker. Lately, we'd been eating a lot of rice; I barely knew how to cook at all, and Mom didn't seem to care what she ate.

"Remind me again, Dear." She shut the magazine. "Who is this boy you're going out with?"

"Just a guy I met at school." I hadn't been to school since before being kidnapped, but I'd had enough guy friends and men interested in me it shouldn't matter. As a test, I added, "His name is Touta."

"Touta?" She paused from putting the magazine back on the shelf. "That's Matsuda-san's name, isn't it?"

"Oh…" I pretended to think as I added rice and water to the cooker. "Detective Matsuda-san? Ummm… I think you're right, yeah."

"Sayu." That worried look I'd come to hate so much marred her already wrinkled face as she looked up at me, making me want to reach out to her. "Please tell me you're not dating Touta Matsuda."

"No," I answered honestly. "I'm not dating Matsuda-san."

I got the feeling she didn't believe me as she searched deep into my eyes. "Is that the truth, Sayu?"

"Mom." I tried to smile. "He has the same name as Matsuda-san. That's all."

Still, she came to me, gripping my shoulders gently and staring into my face, looking for signs of the man she'd loved until death parted them. She brushed the bangs back from my forehead. "Sweetie… Please don't ever date a police officer."

I squeezed her hand, and that ragged pain raged inside us both. I wish she hadn't lost him, that man she'd loved so much. I wished he'd come through the door, take us both in his strong arms, like he used to, and make everything okay, and I just wasn't sure how the two of us would be able to face the world alone like this.

"You never know…" she said hollowly. "You never know if they'll come home…"

I nodded and hugged her tight, feeling bad for bringing it up at all. "Don't worry, Mom. I'm not dating a cop."

* * *

 **-Day Three-**

All night, I tossed and turned, thinking about the things I'd learned from Matsuda, alternating between the feelings growing inside me and the warning my mother had given me. I wanted to think I felt such compassion and affection toward him simply because of his connection to my family, but I knew there was more to it.

Anyway, the case was more pressing, and part of me feared that if it didn't get solved soon, Touta Matsuda might vanish from the world next. I hadn't worried explicitly about that until he'd told me someone pulled a gun on Aizawa. The fact that the victims at the hotel had been apparently made up to look like NPA detectives told me something also. I didn't know what it was exactly, but it was a calling card of danger.

Most ominous of all, the five day deadline pointed to the possibility that this man they were trying to catch was threatening to do something major very soon, which likely meant he was threatening to kill somebody. I wondered if the fact that five fake NPA detectives had been killed had any correlation to the fact that five NPA detectives had been present the day they confronted Kira.

I wracked my brain for any way I could help, even getting out of bed at three in the morning to do some digging on Atashi Rei, and that's when an idea struck me.

After breakfast the next morning, I found Atashi Rei's phone number online and called him, heart pounding with the idea of what I was about to try.

A straight-laced old man answered, and I told him I was the daughter of one of Rei-san's old friends, and that I wanted to meet with him and discuss certain…papers.

The old man hung up on me, but several moments later a blocked number called back, and I answered it, only to find myself talking to Rei in person. He didn't seem interested in my business. No matter how I tried to play the part of an average university student in need of help, he kept asking who I was working for. In the end, I went ahead and told him I was Soichiro Yagami's daughter, and he agreed to meet me for lunch the very next day.

* * *

 **Ide**

"Man, this is boring."

Around us, the neighborhood stayed silent, budding trees barely rustling in the breeze, as if trying to shake off the final hush of winter, and at this time of day, very few people were coming or going, the road mostly empty, but I kept my eyes on the humble house down the street. Nothing had happened in such a long time, I couldn't even say Matsuda was wrong.

"Stakeouts aren't supposed to be fun," I reminded him, blowing a cloud of smoke out my window. For two hours, there'd been nothing to do but smoke and listen to Matsuda complain.

"Yeah, but I didn't know it would be _this_ boring." He drummed his fingers on the car door, sighed, and then leaned forward to pop open my glove box before I could think to stop him, spilling a mountain of contents at his feet. "Woah." Eyes wide, he turned to stare at me. "Don't you ever clean out your car?"

"Matsuda… God."

Suppressing a sigh, I focused on the house. After tailing Miyami for days, he still seemed completely average, taking his lunch and brief case to work every day, driving a modest car, living in a middle class neighborhood, like I'd expect. A middle-aged woman lived with him, but she only ever went to the supermarket on foot, and judging by the amounts of food she purchased, it was just the two of them. If they had any children, they must have grown up and left by now, which made sense, considering the couple's age. By all appearances, Hiro Miyami lived an exceedingly mundane life, and I was beginning to wonder if there was any point in tailing him at all.

Next to me, Matsuda started stuffing items back into the glove box, listing them off as he did. "Receipt from 2010… Pressure gauge... Napkins… Can you even find your car registration in here? What if you get pulled over?"

"If I get pulled over, I flash my badge and drive away."

"Are we allowed to do that?"

"I wouldn't try it if I was as lowly ranked as you, Corporal."

Giving an indignant sniff, he went on. "Tire gage… You've got at least ten lighters in here. Broken sunglasses." He shot me a worried look. "Are you a hoarder?"

"Those are Aizawa's," I explained, brusquely.

"Why do you have them?"

"They were his favorite pair. I thought I could fix them."

Folding and unfolding the remaining earpiece, he set the broken aviators on the bridge of his nose and gazed around the quiet neighborhood like it was a whole new world. "Did you ever even try?"

"I've been a little busy for the last six or seven years."

Matsuda shook his head and crammed the shades into the glove box. "What else?" He scraped up a shred of paper and then giggled. "Wait… This is a phone number."

Stubbornly, I kept my eyes on the house, even as he waved the scrap under my nose.

"Did you actually get a real, live woman to give you her phone number?"

"Would it kill you to pay attention?" I snatched the paper from him, stuffed it into the compartment, nearly getting his fingers as I slammed the door shut. "You _begged_ to be here."

Originally, Mogi was supposed to do this stakeout with me, but when Matsuda found out he had another day of desk work lined up for him, he'd thrown a fit and demanded to come with me, refusing to listen to any of Aizawa's reasoning; it didn't matter to him that he'd recently been in a car bombing, a fist fight, and then almost got his ass eaten by dogs. It didn't even matter to him that if Miyami saw him our cover would be totally blown. Eventually, he'd been so insistent, and Aizawa was so annoyed, he'd relented, muttering that Mogi was better with desk work anyway, but then he'd grabbed me on the way to the car, while Matsuda trotted excitedly ahead of me, muttering, _"Do me a favor and keep him out of trouble."_

 _"How?"_

 _"Don't let Miyami see him…and don't let him run off."_

I'd thought he was kidding, until earlier, as we'd been following Miyami through a busy part of town, when Matsuda had nearly jumped out at a stop light to chase down a yakiimo truck. I'd barely stopped him in time, and then he'd complained for nearly an hour about how hungry he was, and how that was probably the last yakiimo truck of the season.

All in all, taking a road trip with a middle school boy would be less exhausting, and there was still more than half the shift to go.

"I'm hungry," he whined for the ten-thousandth time.

My own stomach growled, but I told him, "You're going to have to wait it out."

Matsuda frowned at me. "What if he leaves the house by then? Maybe I should just jog around the corner to the strip mall real quick, see what's there."

I'd let anybody else go and do just that, but for one thing, the ditz would probably screw up my order—he always seemed to—and for another, I knew he'd get distracted and take forever coming back; if Miyami did make a move while he was gone, I'd be torn between following him and leaving my partner, whom I'd been explicitly instructed not to lose track of.

"You just have to wait, Matsuda."

He sulked. "You shoulda let me get yakiimo at least."

"Watch the house," I snapped, cramming my cigarette butt into the half-empty can of tea I'd been drinking earlier. "Stop whining, and _watch_."

"Why do we both have to watch?" He picked up a pair of binoculars and peered through them In a matter of seconds, though, he'd already forgotten the house and started spying on birds. "It's not like you'll miss it if he leaves."

"Because you're supposed to be helping me. Haven't you ever done this before?"

"Not really," he admitted, scoping out the neighbor's yard. "I mean, once or twice, but that was a long time ago."

"Probably because you're bad at it." At least Mogi would be quiet.

"Well, it's boring."

"Yeah, all right, it is. It's _very_ boring, but we can't get close to Rei right now, thanks to you, and on the off-chance Miyami actually goes and does something noteworthy, we can't risk missing it. So settle down, and watch the house."

At last, Matsuda sank back in his seat, still holding the binoculars to his eyes and gazing up the street intently, but the annoying sound of his fingers drumming threatened to shove me off the deep end.

 _Five more hours of this…_

"What happened with the girl and the phone number?" he asked, after only a few moments of precious silence. "The one in your glove box."

"That's none of your business."

"But, like, did you ever call her?"

"Matsuda… Enough." At least if he was a middle schooler, I could threaten to turn the car around and take him home.

"Sorry," he shrugged. "Just curious."

"We're not here to make small talk." Down the street, I noticed movement, but it turned out to be a cat shooting across the road. Judging by Miyami's movements, he must do a lot of work from home—he spent much more time at his house than he did at his office down town—but he definitely had some kind of job. According to research, he was a stock broker, and the only reason I had to doubt that was that if _I_ were a successful stock broker, I'd live in a much bigger house. His was only two stories, painted dull beige, and the windows were always dark, except in the evening, when one or two came on upstairs and in the living room, for a few hours at a time. The Miyami household seemed to go to bed at nine sharp every night.

If I were a successful stock broker, I wouldn't be living _this_ way at all; I'd get away on weekends, drive an expensive car, and take my wife to fancy dinners. Miyami only ever seemed to commute to and from work.

 _Unless he's just playing clean because he knows we might be watching him…_

Lately, we hadn't even seen him at Yama's, the bar he supposedly frequented all the time, so possibly, his encounter with Matsuda had spooked him. Like Aizawa, I found it suspicious that he'd willingly owned up to finding a shotgun in the dumpster at a crime scene. There was no reason for someone to make up a lie like that, so he couldn't be as clean as he seemed.

Matsuda started up again. "You used to do this with Aizawa a lot, right?"

About ten years had passed since we'd been lowly ranked enough to conduct our own tedious surveillance, but there had been a time when it had felt like the two of us lived in Shuichi's car. Back then, we'd both been eager to climb the ranks and feel successful, and now I wished we could return to that simple time, when the department felt like home, and there was nowhere to go but up.

"Yeah."

"I'll bet _that_ was really boring, the two of you stuck in a car all day, not talking, _starving_."

"We took the job seriously, at least. And for your information, the two of us used to be really fun."

"Seriously?" He grinned at me, eyes sparkling with mischief. "You guys? No offense, but debating back and forth about who takes things more seriously isn't _fun_ , Ide."

Just about done with him, I finally took my eyes off the house to scowl at him, snarling, "Hey, Loudmouth, speaking of Aizawa, there's this game I like to play with his kids. It's called the quiet game. I'm sure you'll suck at it, but let's give it a try. Annnnd—go."

Irritated frown replacing his smile, Matsuda gradually turned back to the house and lifted his binoculars again.

Cool breeze filled the cab as I leaned back in my seat, listening hard, but I couldn't even hear the distant sounds of the inner city now. Down the street, a jogger trotted at a light pace, and a couple cars passed, but at the Miyami house, I saw no sign of activity. After being parked for so long, I was willing him to go somewhere— _anywhere_ —just so I wouldn't have to keep sitting here with Matsuda like this.

Ten or fifteen years ago, I'd hated stakeouts too. We'd been younger than Matsuda, and I remembered how frustrating it was to sit in a car for ten or twelve hours, counting the minutes until I could run off and get a beer somewhere.

Aizawa had never seemed to mind. Freakishly quiet, he used to sit and study the location, one hand always touching the ignition in case he had to gun it, while I'd sat and played the radio and looked at magazines, bitching about being hungry and bored, coming up with any excuse I could find to leave the car and stretch my legs.

Obviously, that must have annoyed my partner—he'd always been the mature one—and yes, he'd snapped at me sometimes, but he'd never been patronizing enough to initiate a session of the quiet game just to shut me up.

I _never tried to jump out and chase down a damn food truck_.

Staking out seemed to be nearly as much a waste of Matsuda's crazy amounts of energy as desk work, and the only reason I could come up with for him to beg me to bring him along was that he desperately wanted to be included in this case.

Splotchy purple and yellow, the bruises from his fistfight were fading, but they still looked bad, and his knuckles were still scabbed over, alarming reminders of what measures he'd take just to make sure he had _something_ to contribute.

"Hey," I sighed. "Listen… I know this is boring, but this is the job sometimes." It really wasn't working out in his favor at the moment that the Kira case had been the only real investigation he'd ever been on, but, past my annoyance, I realized that he might just need some coaching. "There are still five or seven hours of this left, you just gotta settle down. Turn on the radio, or something."

Smirking devilishly at me, Matsuda lowered his binoculars. "You lost, Taniki-tan. Who's a loudmouth now?" With a triumphant flourish, he leaned forward to switch the radio on, starting to sing along immediately.

"You little shit." I glared at him. "I _let_ you win."

Still singing, he flipped around through the stations, looking for something he liked better, and eventually landed on some god-awful pop music. "Losing is losing," he told me in a sing-song voice.

"It's the _quiet_ game. You play it with annoying people to get them to shut up."

He cranked the radio to drown me out, singing over the real lyrics, "You're a lo-oser! Ide's a lo-oser! La-la-la-loooser!"

"This is the last time I bring you on a stakeout!" I half-shouted, turning the dial back down to a reasonable volume.

"Oh." He twisted around in his seat, suddenly. "There's Kei!"

Heart skipping a beat, I glanced in my side mirror. There was no reason for Komagata to come here—he must just be messing with me—but sure enough, she'd parked half a block behind us, already striding this way, yellow hair flying like silk, confident and beautiful in her leather jacket and cowboy boots.

"What the hell is she doing?"

"I texted her that I was hungry," Matsuda explained. "She offered to bring lunch."

"What?" I whipped around to glare at him. "Matsuda! You can't _invite_ people to our stakeout!"

"C'mon," he chuckled, "she's just bringing us food."

"It doesn't matter!" I shot a nervous glance at Miyami's house. "We can't draw attention—"

Kei stopped at my window, rapping on my roof and waving in at us. "Hey, guys!"

"Hey, Keiko!" Matsuda called back. "Man, it's about time—I'm starving!"

"No worries." She beamed, blue eyes like crystal. "I brought Lotteria!"

I glared out at her. "What the hell do you think you're doing? Can't you see we're undercover here?"

"Relax, there, Taniki-tan." Her cherry blossom mouth laughed. "Cap said it would be okay."

"Oh, right. _Aizawa_ gave you the okay to come and crash our stakeout."

"Yeah, he said he doesn't want your blood sugar to drop."

Face flushing, I snarled, "Fine, whatever, just get in before someone sees you!"

Laughing again, like the sound of a glass bell, she threw open the car door and climbed in behind me. "I feel sorry for you, Touma. He's always so cranky!"

"Yeah," Matsuda agreed, "he hasn't been much fun."

"I'm just trying to do my job!" I shouted.

They both laughed at me. "How's it going down here?" she asked, leaning forward to gaze at the house. "Any luck?"

"Nothing's happening at all," Matsuda complained, "it's totally boring. And Ide wouldn't even let me jog to the convenience store real quick to get a snack."

"That's so mean! You poor thing."

"You have food now," I growled, glaring in the rearview at Kei. "Give it to him and _go_."

Already, she was passing sandwiches and drinks forward still smiling with her pearly, straight teeth.

Matsuda tore into his double cheeseburger with the voracity of a wild animal, throwing the wrapper on the floor of my car.

"Here." Kei tossed a sandwich at me. "Touma said you like Lotteria."

Again, I couldn't help scowling at Matsuda, but he just winked back at me, mouth crammed full of red meat. I _was_ hungry, though, so I ripped it open to find my favorite shrimp burger, dripping in tartar sauce.

"You're welcome," Kei giggled, slamming a soft drink into my cup holder.

"See?" Matsuda joined in. "I was thinking of you too."

"It doesn't matter, Matsuda," I barked, feeling more flustered by the second. "You still can't just _invite_ people to drop by."

"Nobody noticed her."

"You don't know that! And _you_." I scowled into the mirror at Kei. "LAPD's finest. Are you stupid? Showing up like this could blow our whole operation!"

At last, the smile fled from her pert lips. "Would you take it easy? Even if somebody saw me, they're not going to think anything of it."

"I'm glad you're so sure. Whatever. Fine. Thanks. Now go away."

Komagata drew a short, offended breath, "I just thought—"

"You didn't think at all. _Leave._ Right now."

"Geez. High strung much?" She threw her door open again.

"Bye, Keiko!" Matsuda called, offering her a fist bump. "Thanks again!"

She flashed him a smiled. Their knuckles slammed lightly together. "Bye, Touma!" Sliding an uncertain glance at me, she murmured, "Later."

And with that, her door shut, she flounced up the street to her car, and peeled away, gone as quickly as she'd come. I watched in my mirror until she'd vanished, and then finally took a bite out of my shrimp burger, feeling like I could breathe again.

Next to me, Matsuda had nearly finished off his cheeseburger already and was sucking down his drink like he'd been in the desert for the last three days.

"You two idiots," I complained between bites. "I don't believe for a second Aizawa actually said she could do that."

"Maybe he did." He shoved the last of the burger into his mouth, took another drink, and scrubbed the ketchup from his fingers with a napkin. "I mean, you wouldn't let me leave to get food. Were we really supposed to go without eating all day?"

"If Mogi was with me, it wouldn't be a big deal," I snorted.

Matsuda cocked a slight frown at me, but then leaned forward with his binoculars again, finally ready to pay attention.

I might actually thank Komagata later if he shut up for half an hour and did some work.

Too much to hope for.

"Anyway, she's sweet," he decided suddenly, "and _really_ pretty. Don't you think? Her eyes are so blue! Just like the sky. And she's tall for a woman. She's looks how I'd picture a goddess."

"She's too pale," I snorted, ripping off another bite of shrimp and tartar sauce. "I doubt goddesses are that white."

"Either way, I can barely believe she's just a normal cop like us. Do you think all American girls look like that?"

"Most of them are _fat_. Kei's too chubby for me."

Undaunted by my criticisms, he gushed on, "Yeah, but she's really down-to-Earth, too. I mean, I know she comes off like an airhead sometimes, but if you really talk to her, she's got some good ideas, and it's super interesting to hear her talk about growing up in America."

"Why are you telling me any of this?" I wondered when I'd been chewing a moment. "Are you into her?"

"Nah, I just think we're lucky she's on our investigation."

"Aizawa told me you're with Sayu."

I didn't mean for it to shut him up—I thought he'd forget about Komagata and start yammering about Sayu next—but his smile faltered, and he spent a few seconds sitting in silence before stammering, "Oh… That's…um…complicated."

"You bet your ass it is." Kira's little sister. What could he be thinking? "You'd be better off with Komagata." I could see the two of them together, running wild and getting into plenty of trouble, always making noise and laughing. Maybe that would be good for him, but I had to admit the image made me a touch jealous.

 _Ridiculous; she's young. She's way out of my league. She'd never even think about it._

"Kei doesn't like me, Ide," he told me, matter-of-factly.

"She just brought you lunch."

"Um…I think she brought _you_ lunch, Ide."

"Shut up," I grumbled, suddenly dropping the unappealing remains of my burger back into the bag. "I am so sick of you making fun of my love life."

Curiously, he turned to me. "Wait… You really don't see it? Or do you just not believe it?"

"Seriously." I leveled a warning look on him. "Knock it off."

"Ide." He shook his head in mock dismay. "I always knew you were hopeless, but _wow_."

"Komagata's at least ten years younger than me. At _least_."

"Right. I'm just saying it would be really stupid to let a girl like that get away just because you don't believe you have a shot with her."

Annoyance getting the better of me, I huffed, "Don't you have some Zoloft to take?"

At once, his expression turned dark, and he dropped his binoculars into his lap, sinking in his seat and muttering, "That's not cool."

"Hey, don't go and make things personal and then get mad when other people do the same. You wanna talk about relationships?"

"No," he said quickly. "I don't. I really don't."

"You're out of your mind if you think Sayu Yagami is actually interested in a blockhead like you."

"Ide, I said no."

"Unless you _really_ believe she'd want to go out with one of her dead father's coworkers. Personally, I think that's weird, at best."

"Stop it, Ide."

"If anything, she's just using you because you're nice and have a cool car—that's what girls do to guys like you. Just like Sumi—"

"Great!" He shouted suddenly, face reddening with anger. "Good! Now I know how to end up alone—just like you!"

Stunned, I stared at him, mouth still hanging open, and in that second of hesitation, he kicked the car door open and jumped out.

"Matsuda! Dammit!" I twisted around to watch him, thinking he'd just stop on the side of the road to clear his head, but already he was shrinking into the distance, giving no sign that he intended to come back.

"Dammit!" I glanced up the road. Taking my eyes off Miyami's house wasn't an option. Aizawa told me specifically not to lose Matsuda. "Dammit!" I sprang out after him, running, checking the house over my shoulder, and hissing his name, "Matsuda! Wait!"

I managed to snag his arm, jerking him to a stop, but he just glared at me. "Let go of me, Ide."

"Get back in the car!"

He stood stubbornly where he was. "No."

Still holding his arm, I frantically scanned the street, but already people were pausing to watch us. At the house to my left, a housewife plucked her curtains aside and peeked out her window. "Corporal, get back in the car. I'm not kidding."

"Make me," he growled.

Furious, I gripped him tighter, thinking it would be easy to throw his scrawny ass in a headlock and drag him back to the car, but I really couldn't afford to make a scene. "All right. You have _five_ seconds to get back in that car, or I'll write you up."

He snorted. "You can't do that."

"I'm your field commander. What the hell do you think the chain of command is about? Do you understand how _any_ of this works?"

"Okay," he dared, "write me up, then," and jerked out of my hand.

With people trying to kill him, I didn't dare let him go—he might not ever make it home.

Scrambling after him, I snatched a handful of his collar. "Matsuda—"

"I said no!" he screamed. "You can't just say all that to me and expect me to get back in the car with you!"

Apparently, I'd really made a mistake, and I barely understood how. Those things I'd said about Sayu had been harsh, but I wouldn't expect him to storm off like this over it. No, the real mistake was losing sight of his emotional condition. Bruises aside, he _looked_ better, suit clean and pressed, and he'd been cheerful for the past few days, but his depression couldn't have vanished that easily, and for all I knew, the only reason he'd been happier in the first place was because he'd started dating Sayu.

 _Shuichi will kill me if I lose track of him right now…_

I wondered what _he_ would do, but then, I didn't have to think about it for very long; Aizawa wouldn't do this with Matsuda—he'd tell him to get back in the car, and Matsuda would obey. But I wasn't Shuichi, and I needed a different tactic of persuasion.

"Buddy, listen—"

"Don't _buddy_ me," he snapped, eyebrows jutting downward in outrage.

"Matsuda, come on. I can't finish this stakeout by myself."

"Hey, you never wanted me here in the first place. Right?"

Quickly, I scanned the street again. In the distance, Miyami's house stayed still, but more and more people had noticed the two grown men having a shouting match on the street, and if neighborhood security showed up, we wouldn't be able to finish the stakeout at all. That would _really_ make Aizawa angry.

"All right, all right, look." I squeezed both his shoulders. "Just get back in the car for a little bit; I'll call Mogi to come relieve you, and you can go home."

Matsuda's mouth fell open. "Unbelievable. You'd rather send me home than just apologize?"

No way a simple apology would erase everything I'd just said, let alone convince him to get back in the car.

"Come on, I was just screwing around with you. I didn't know it was gonna hurt your feelings so bad." I'd had no idea his fling with Sayu was such a sensitive topic to start with. "I thought we were just giving each other a hard time—like we always do."

Anger dripping from every word, Matsuda's voice rose to a shout again, "Telling me to take my Zoloft and saying women will always just _use_ me because I'm nice is not—"

"I know. I know, I know, I know. That was out of line. If you want to go home, I get it. Please just get back in the car and wait for Mogi. I'll call him right now. It'll be thirty minutes at the most."

On the other side of the street, a pair of old ladies with a Pomeranian stared at us, whispering.

"I said no! You guys think you can just push me around all the time and tell me what to do, what not to do, treat me like an idiot because you're higher ranked than me. But you _can't_ talk to me like—"

"Matsuda," I sputtered, "it's not like that. I just made a mistake. Cut me some slack."

Still, he only scowled, and I'd never seen him so outraged and stubborn.

"Come on, Touta." I swallowed hard, lowering my voice. "I didn't mean to hurt your feelings."

Tightly, he sighed and then glared down at his shoes. "Fine," he muttered, defeated, like he just didn't know what else to do.

Good enough.

Lightly, I slammed his shoulder, and then hooked my arm around his neck, tentatively, though, beginning to lead him back toward the car.

"You don't really have feelings, huh, Ide?"

"Not like you do." I couldn't even imagine how confusing it must be, getting pulled in random directions all the time by emotions. I'd been stupid to let his comments about Kei push me to such annoyance that I'd actually attacked him.

Even so, the explosive anger and outraged stubbornness he'd shown was so far from how he normally was, I almost couldn't believe he'd gotten to that point, and I told myself, again, that the real mistake had been to provoke him at all when he'd been so messed up lately. I definitely didn't want to be the reason he slid back down that black hole of depression.

"I'm sorry," I said, unceremoniously. "Really, Matsuda."

Tiredly, he nodded. " It's okay." At least he wasn't prone to holding grudges.

As much as I didn't want to tell Aizawa about this, I knew I'd have to. This level of unpredictability was exactly the thing he'd been worried about lately, and witnessing it first hand, I couldn't help but think he might be right. Matsuda shouldn't be on this investigation—he _should_ be pushing papers on a small-timey narcotics case, focusing on getting himself back in order, or else on leave of absence—and if I told Aizawa what happened, even if he was angry with me for screwing up so bad, he could start working on a way to transfer Matsuda, or, at least, keep him better contained. That would be best for the case, and for him.

Back at the car, I paused and stared at Miyami's house, where Miyami himself stood at the end of his driveway, watching us.

"Goddammit," I muttered.

The smug bastard smiled and waved like he knew exactly who we were and what we were doing, and then he climbed into his car, backed down the driveway, and drove off.

"Wow, Ide," Matsuda murmured. "You really screwed this up."

I couldn't even argue.

* * *

 **Sayu**

 **-Day Four-**

* * *

As I prepared for my meeting with Rei, thinking of the best excuse to give my mother, another call from a blocked number came in, and I wasn't surprised to find that it was Atashi Rei again, confirming the meeting and saying, apologetically that he wanted to change the location. To my surprise, he named the Shinjuku Prince Hotel.

Nevertheless, I dressed up as nicely as I dared and slipped Light's tape recorder into my pocket, told my mom I was meeting my boyfriend in Aoyama, spent some time convincing her I would be okay, and then hired a cab.

On the way, I had to fight the gut-wrenching, heart-slamming feel of anxiety that took over me any time I left the house these days, nervously watching the back of the taxi driver's head, chancing glances out the window. When I arrived at the hotel, I watched the strangers around me warily. When I'd been kidnapped, there'd barely been any time to register what was happening before they snatched me, and as much as I'd thought about it, I always concluded that there wasn't a thing I could have done to save myself. It hadn't mattered then that I'd been in a popular part of town, and it didn't matter now.

But if I got too scared I'd have to abandon this risky meeting completely, so I drew a deep breath, and went inside, searching the smiling face of the door man for an true compassion, but like most people, he was simply being polite, and I knew I had to face this meeting alone.

 _Anikun…_ I clutched at my necklace. _I don't know if this is what you would do, but…it's all I can think of._

Likely due to the recent crime, the hotel was dead, so finding Rei in the lobby was easy at least. He was, after all, morbidly obese, and watching each passerby with the intensity of a hungry shark. Still, he greeted me politely, and we walked into the dining room together.

"Well, well, Miss Yagami," His piranha mouth grinned as we sat down. "You're a beautiful young lady. Soichiro must be proud."

If he didn't know my father was dead, he must not be watching the NPA as carefully as I'd originally thought. "Thank you." I smiled, and eased back in my seat, trying not to fidget or seem nervous.

"I haven't seen him in some time of course. I've been overseas for these past few years."

"On business?"

A hesitant smile fluttered on his lips. "Yes… Kira did some damage to my…er…hobby. It was best to lie low a while."

"Then you must believe that Kira's really gone for good this time."

"Well…" His brow furrowed contemplatively. "Kira has been gone for longer periods of time—I'm not sure what to think. That's why I was reluctant to admit to you what I do… But I doubt you have the kinds of motives most of my regular clients have. Ah, but I forget my manners." His face lifted in another toothy smile. "Shall we order? My treat."

When both our drinks had been brought and the waiter was going to be gone a while, he leaned forward, folding his hands on the table. "Now then," he purred. "How can I be of assistance, my dear?"

Doing my best to smile back, I drew a pause to sip from my lemonade and slipped my hand into my pocket, even though I already knew the recorder was on. This was just a matter of getting him to say the right thing, and I had no idea where to begin.

I thought of silly Matsuda at the bar, blurting out the first thing he thought of and bumbling through his conversation with Miyami. Obviously, I'd have to be more careful than him—that shouldn't be difficult—and all the same, I found myself scanning the hotel dining room, looking for him, half-hoping he'd somehow gotten wind that this meeting was happening and had come to look out for me.

Everyone around me was a stranger.

Rei watched me curiously, and I realized I'd been quiet for much too long, so I pretended to look for eavesdroppers before whispering, "I need documents."

"Yes, I'm very good with such things—birth certificates, passports, whatever you need. Even marriage licenses, if that's what it is."

Obviously, he was trying to ferret out what a girl my age would want with a forger, but he was being careful not to come right out and admit that's what he did.

"Wow! How'd you guess that?" I asked brightly. "You must be really good at your job!"

Rei chuckled. "My dear, I was younger than you are now when I got into this business."

"Really? What kind of job was that?"

He eyed me suspiciously, but I made sure to smile and toy with my hair and sip lemonade and look completely innocent. "Ah, just some…little thing for a government official. Tell me more about what it is _you_ want."

So far, I doubted our conversation would be enough to implicate him, and that left me no choice but to keep talking. "I have sort of a Romeo and Juliet situation."

"I see. Then you and the young man aren't allowed to be together."

"Not me. My brother."

"Ah, yes. Your father spoke very highly of him—in fact, he wanted to be a police officer himself, didn't he?"

I wondered what it mattered, and it hurt to think about Light's hopes and dreams of being a detective, but I said, "He gave that up. He works for an accounting firm right now."

"Hmm. That sounds a bit like a waste, if your father was being realistic about the boy's capabilities."

"I completely agree." I sipped my lemonade again. "Anyway, he and his girlfriend want to get married, but our parents are being _so_ stuck up about it. They've decided to run away to America, but he says they'll need fake papers."

"That all makes sense." He nodded to himself, even though the story sounded ridiculous even to me.

The food arrived then, and we had to pause a moment.

A bit disgusted, I watched Rei eat the rich meal of steak and lobster he'd ordered, gulping down expensive wine every few bites. "So then. You'll need passports. A wedding license. Identification."

"The IDs won't be any trouble, will they?" I feigned a worried look.

"No, no, they'll be simple enough. You might say they're my specialty."

My heart leapt. I got him to admit that. If I could only get hard, physical evidence that he was a forger, the police would have some grounds to base their arrest on.

I couldn't stop the huge grin that stretched across my face. "That's wonderful!"

He looked up from his meal, eyes gleaming, and said with unexpected sharpness, "In fact, I made some excellent IDs just the other week."

The admission so startled me, I couldn't answer for a moment, and I knew that looked bad. "O-oh," I stammered. "Really? Is that so?"

He smiled. "You know that already though, don't you?"

"I… I don't understand, Rei-san."

"Well, I find it strange, Miss Sayu, that shortly after I was hired for that job the daughter of Soichiro Yagami contacts me wanting the same service. How could you have learned about my hobby, I wonder? I've been very quiet about it lately, and most my clients only find me by word of mouth."

"I just…" I couldn't smile my way out of that, but I tried. "I just…"

"Be honest now," he prompted, laying his fork aside. "Shuichi Aizawa is the one who told you. Or at least, you heard it from him somehow. My guess is he stopped to speak with your father about this investigation he's working on. Am I right?"

"I…I barely know Aizawa-san," I said faintly.

"The real question is, how did _he_ find out about my hobby?"

"I have no idea, ojisan. He is a detective though…" I realized I'd started toying with my necklace again and quickly dropped my hand back into my lap.

"Then you admit that's how you came to find out about me?"

Throat tightening, I shook my head, and then I eyed the exit, wondering if I should make a break for it. The same door man stood there, tipping his hat to guests and smiling.

"Come now, Miss Sayu, there's no other explanation. You overheard Captain Aizawa discussing a forger named Atashi Rei with your father, and it was the exact service you needed, so you contacted me."

My heart nearly stopped from the relief. I took a deep but quiet breath, and then smiled again. "You got me. That is more or less how it happened."

I hoped by telling him that I wouldn't be putting Aizawa-san in more danger, but it seemed like the only way to proceed, and I was so close.

"In any case, I'm glad to be able to help. I will need photographs of both your brother and his girlfriend though."

"Of course!" I dug into my purse for the wallet-sized photos of Light and Misa I carried, even though I felt horribly guilty for using them. _Anikun, Misa… I'm sorry, but it's for the case._ I slid them across the table to him, trying to hide how reluctant I was to let them go.

Rei took his time studying them. "A handsome couple to be sure. Raito…" He stared at Misa's picture a little longer. "Misa Amane?" His fat face sagged with a frown. "I had heard she was found dead just last week."

Obviously he'd come back from overseas between the arrest of Kira and Misa's death.

The memory of Misa lying dead on Light's old bed ripped through my mind, and I had to bite back a wince, but I managed to wink at him. "All part of the plan."

For a moment, I could see he was confused, and then he suddenly grinned. "Oh! I see! You were being literal about Romeo and Juliet. How amusing. Well, I think I'll be able to get a good deal accomplished with these photographs. May I keep them?"

"Yeah." I shrugged, still trying to hide my attachment to the photos. "I have copies."

"Thank you, Sayu-kun." He stashed them away in his pocket, looking at me with sparkling eyes. "Now, if that's all of it, I'd like to discuss payment."

"Payment. Yes." I hadn't thought that far ahead—I hadn't expected this to go so unbelievably well—and I knew I didn't have enough money. Regardless, I toyed with my purse, as if intending to fish out my wallet.

I got a little extra time when the bus boy came back to refill our drinks and then drifted away again. I noticed him watching us from across the room though; he had an overtly plain face, but there was something distinct about his curved nose.

"I'm willing to pay whatever's necessary," I said around my straw.

"Well, yes, but as much as I like money, there is something else I'm interested in getting from you, Sayu-kun." With a flourish, he lit a cigarette.

A chill sped up my spine, and I sat back in my seat. "What?"

"Don't be alarmed—it's nothing scandalous. However, you _are_ the daughter of the deputy director, and as such, I had hoped I could get your assistance in some police matters."

Suddenly, I realized this might be the one and only reason he'd even agreed to meet with me, and it was an unexpected ace in the hole.

"It's a bit embarrassing," he said, "but it seems that my hobby has been discovered, as I mentioned earlier. I'd prefer not to be thrown in jail, and I had hoped you could help."

Before I could react, he added, "Please understand that if I'm forced to discontinue my hobby, I won't be at liberty to help your brother."

I pretended to think a moment, and then I nodded. "I understand. Dad's retired, but I'll do what I can."

"Yes, I assumed he was. But I also know he still has a lot influence with the man who's in charge of this investigation that threatens me. When I met your father, Captain Aizawa was fresh from the academy, but I noticed he held quite a bit of respect for your father."

He must have an astounding memory to remember Aizawa from that far back.

"That's true," I agreed. "I'm sure Aizawa-san respected my father very, very much."

"There must be something you can do," he said, and this time, I caught a hint of desperation in his eyes. "I've been out of the business for so long… It's possible my last client was an err in judgment. I believe you can help me though, my dear—if nothing else, I'm sure that if the police were planning to arrest me, you might be able to inform me of the fact."

"I'm not sure," I said quietly. "Couldn't I get in trouble?"

"Ah, you're the former deputy director's daughter," he sniffed. "I have every confidence that you'll be fine, and if you can help me, I'll consider that your payment in full." And then something sly entered his face, and he said suddenly, "Assuming I'm wrong, there's only one other thing that can possibly be happening here, and that is that Captain Aizawa himself sent you to speak with me—for all I know you're wearing a wire. If that happens to be the case, I would remind him that he's in a more dangerous position than he realizes, and that I have advised him—twice now—to back off."

For a long time, I sat quietly, trying to decide what to say to that, and he smoked his cigarette, watching my reaction intently. It _sounded_ like a threat to me, but he didn't seem especially dangerous.

Eventually, he growled, "Captain Aizawa has nothing on me, even with this conversation, and I'm afraid of what might happen to him if he continues to pursue this issue. I am currently connected with some very dangerous people, Sayu-kun."

"I'm sure Aizawa-san has taken that into account."

"No." He shook his head. "I highly doubt he has. Even I don't know the extent of the danger he's putting himself in by investigating this case. That reminds me though." He mashed his cigarette into the glass ash tray. "Have you perhaps heard of a police detective named Touta Matsuda?"

I barely kept myself from looking startled. "No. I don't believe so."

"Hmm. I'm curious is all." He laced his fingers together in front of his face, eyebrows sinking. "What about a man called Taro Matsui?"

That sounded oddly close to Matsuda's real name, but I shook my head. "That sounds like almost the same person."

"It does, doesn't it? In any case… No matter. Perhaps he's not a detective at all."

For several minutes, he seemed to think about it, and the look on his face genuinely scared me, dark and determined, displaying the ruthlessness of a true businessman, and I wondered if I made a mistake meeting with him.

After that, the discussion was over, and we made arrangements to meet later in the week so I could pick up the forged documents. I tried as hard as I could to arrange the meeting for Tuesday or Wednesday, but he insisted on Thursday, almost as if he knew that would be one day too late. There wasn't anything I could do about it though. The rest was up to the police.


	10. Chapter 10

**Matsuda**

* * *

 **-Day six-**

* * *

In complete disbelief, I listened to the tape Sayu had brought me, but any time I started to say something, she hushed me and indicated for me to listen.

When it was finally over, I demanded, "Are you crazy?"

We were in my living room on Wednesday evening. All week, the team had focused on finding Nishi Yamaguchi, since whatever Chiba had learned about him died with him, but there wasn't a trail to follow, and the only thing we'd managed to learn was that he'd had a bartending license. Ide seemed to think that whoever killed Yamaguchi must have also killed everyone who could have connected him to our case after Chiba was dead, but no related murders had been reported.

Meanwhile, trailing Hiro Miyami had gotten much more difficult since he spotted Ide and I outside his house, so Aizawa put Mogi and Yoko on it instead, saying he expected they'd be more subtle, and I was back to desk work. But I didn't dare complain.

There wasn't any time left, and tensions ran high; Ide and Aizawa seemed to bicker almost constantly about what few facts we had and how to use them. I had never seen them act that way, but Mogi said not to worry about it, so I guess maybe he _had._

Every night for the last three days, I'd been losing sleep, worrying about what we were going to do, and trying desperately to think of something _I_ could do, but despite the fact that I'd been the one to find the leads we had now, it seemed like we couldn't get any further with them.

And then when I came home and looked at my phone for the first time all day, I found more than half a dozen messages from Sayu, demanding that I call her back. Before I even had a chance, though, she was knocking on my door, barging in almost without permission, telling me I had to listen to the tape she'd brought.

Its contents shocked me.

Sayu frowned at me. "Hey, I risked a lot to get this evidence."

"Exactly. You never should have done that." I wondered if this was how the others felt when I did something stupid, but I still couldn't believe Sayu had taken such a risk.

"I know it was dangerous, but you can arrest him now."

She made it sound so simple. "How do I explain where I got this tape? It's obviously you talking to Rei." I already knew the guys would assume I'd put her up to it, but that might be better for her.

"I understand I could get in trouble, Matsuda," she told me solemnly. "It'll be worth it if we catch this guy. He admitted to making fake IDs last week—I think there's a good chance he really is connected to the case, especially after that stuff he said about Aizawa." She paused, toying with her necklace. "I guess you don't have to take the tape in if you don't want to, but it would be dumb to let it go to waste."

I turned the tape over in my hands, reluctant to trash it. Even if the others wanted to look the other way, they might not be able to do anything to protect her.

Pushing papers all week while they were out investigating, though, had really gotten frustrating after a few days, and it felt like, no matter how many times I said I wanted to help, Aizawa wouldn't let me. I knew it was because I dropped my wallet in Rei's yard and then screwed up the stakeout with Ide, but it wasn't fair. And besides, so far, Miyami appeared to be completely clean, and we were getting nowhere fast.

"Here's what we'll do," I said finally. "I'll go with you tomorrow night and try to get pictures as you make the exchange with Rei. If you disguise yourself a little we might be able to hide the fact that you were there—at least for a while. That should be enough to get the others' attention; and then I'll talk to Aizawa about this tape. Hopefully we can arrest and get a confession out of Rei without bringing you into it at all."

Sayu smiled. "Wow, Matsu, I'm impressed."

I tried to laugh. "Hey, I can think of good ideas from time to time."

"I told you we make a great team." She touched my arm, and then her smile fell as she seemed to think of something. "What about some of that stuff Rei asked me about you? I get that he's keeping tabs on Aizawa-san, by why would he be interested in you?"

I thought a moment, but it didn't take long to come up with an answer. Reluctantly, I said, "Because of my ID. I think I dropped my wallet in his garden. I had to cancel my credit card and everything."

Sayu's expression hardened. "So what are you saying? He found it and just asked to see if you're really a police officer?" Her worry transformed into horror. "Or is he going to come after you?"

"Nah." I did my best to sound cool. "I doubt it. If he was going to press charges, he would have done it, and there's not much else he can do to me, especially if he's lying low." _I hope_ , I added silently.

Still, Sayu looked skeptical and concerned, so I didn't tell her I'd lost my Taro Matsui ID along with my real identification. If Rei _was_ involved with the person behind these killings, this gave them the perfect opportunity to find out exactly who I was.

"That's it?" Sayu demanded. "That isn't very comforting."

"Nothing's gonna happen to me, Sayu. So he found my ID? Who cares?"

"Yeah, but if this guy _is_ after you, you shouldn't be anywhere near him."

My face flushed. That's what Aizawa thought too, but her concern didn't make me feel stupid or incapable. It was actually kind of nice. "I'll be all right," I assured her. "We'll pick this guy up as quick as we can, and hopefully he'll tell us everything we need to know. I mean, we're going to be too late no matter what we do, but at least this way we might be able to solve the case before anything too terrible happens."

"And you still won't tell me what's going to happen on Friday?"

"I don't know what's gonna happen on Friday," I told her truthfully.

It was obvious she didn't completely believe me, and she didn't agree with me, but she gave it up. "Okay, we'll do it your way. But on Friday, I expect a full explanation."

"You'll get one. I promise." I didn't know if I could necessarily keep that promise, but chances were, by Friday, everyone would know the consequences of our failure anyway.

Sayu studied me, really searching my eyes for the truth, and then she suddenly cupped my face between her hands and leaned up to press a kiss against my lips, not quite long enough for me to kiss her back.

With that, she got to her feet. "I better go."

The kiss left me in such a daze, I barely had enough presence of mind to show her to the door, but I caught her hand before she went out and squeezed it. Her eyes glowed as she smiled back at me, and then she was gone.

 **-Last Day-**

* * *

After work, I drove up to the cafe in Chiyoda where Sayu was supposed to meet with Rei, bringing the best camera I could get my hands on.

The neighborhood was clean, and the place was upscale. Bright lights and classical music poured out of it, and all the people coming and going were dressed in tuxedos and expensive gowns. They even had valet parking, so I pulled into the natural grocer next door, and by then Sayu was coming toward me, wearing a black dress with her hair down for once. I couldn't imagine her getting on the bus that way, and I hoped she'd taken a cab.

I'd meant to get here ahead of her. but leaving work had been tough. It was our last day to investigate, and everyone was frantic with their own worry and anger because we hadn't gotten anywhere, and we didn't understand why that was. Aizawa had organized the others into groups at the end of the day to go out investigating after hours, in hopes that they could at least get something on Miyami.

When I'd told them I had a date and couldn't help, they'd all scowled at me and grumbled about how I'd never change, but in the end, Aizawa had just spat, "Fine. I can't _make_ you work overtime." As I left, everyone was mad at me, and that made me feel guilty, but I knew this would make up for it.

Lugging the camera with me, I met Sayu on the sidewalk. "Sorry I'm late."

"It's all right." She adjusted her hair, and I tried not to stare at her. Tonight she looked like a princess, standing in the light of the setting sun, pink lips puckered nervously as she glanced around the street, and I'd never seen her looking so grown up and beautiful.

Standing next to her, I felt insignificant and grungy.

At least it was a quiet neighborhood, with the café and market set in the middle of a residential area. The old trees quivered in the breeze, and the streetlamps glowed with a violet blue cast, and everything was calm.

"Rei should be here by eight," she said. "That gives you thirty minutes to set up your camera."

I checked for a decent vantage point, but there wasn't a place with great cover. "You guys are going to meet out here in the parking lot, right? Maybe I'll set up across the street."

Sayu scanned the narrow alley directly across from us. It was poorly lit and empty, but there were a couple of trash bins to provide a hiding spot at least. "Okay. That's creepy… Don't you think you could just sit in your car?"

"I don't want to risk him noticing me." I thought the alley looked creepy too, but I added, "I'll be fine."

"In that case, I'll be sure to stand here under this streetlight so you can get decent pictures."

"Great. If the papers he gives you are in an envelope, make sure you take them out and try to hold them up so I can get a clear shot of what they are."

She raised an eyebrow. "You must have an amazing camera."

"I took it from the station." I patted my camera bag. "But no. They'll have to be blown up later." I surveyed the situation one last time, from the bluish streetlight haloing her, to the people laughing on the café patio, and back to her dress, which was hemmed just at the mid-thigh. "Are you sure you'll be okay out here?"

Folding her arms against the chill, she nodded, and the breeze rustled her hair softly. I couldn't stop thinking about how she kissed me last night. "Will you?"

"Yeah." I handed her my keys. "Feel free to sit in my car until he shows up."

With one last smile at her, I crossed over to the alley, picking out a spot where I'd be hard to see and setting up the tripod. I didn't know much about my equipment, but at least I was smart enough to remove the lens cover. I looked through and focused on Sayu to check my vantage point, distracted again by how great she looked—I wished we could actually go inside and have dinner together—that made me feel like a creep though, so I moved the tripod a couple times, always careful to stay out of sight, and then stuffed the camera bag against the corner of the dumpster and the wall. After that, there was nothing to do but wait, so I crouched down in the alley with my back against the cold bricks.

In the crisp, cloudy night, the smell of rain hung, and the neighborhood seemed to be bound by a spell of utter silence. Scents of rich food drifted across the road to tempt me, and I remembered I hadn't eaten since lunch. Breeze tugged at my hair, and I turned up the collar of my jacket and blew into my hands to keep them from getting stiff.

Across the street, Sayu had gotten into my car, and I could just make out the shape of her head past the tinted glass. My phone said five til eight.

I was disappointed but not surprised to have to wait another ten minutes. It wasn't very long—things came up. No big deal. My hands were getting numb at that point, and my back was starting to feel stiff, but I knew he'd come soon.

In my car, it looked like Sayu had turned on the radio, and I even imagined I could hear her sweet voice singing.

When another fifteen minutes had gone by, I realized I'd missed my opportunity to stand up and stretch; if he pulled up while I was distracted, I might not get a chance to take photos good enough to arrest him.

After a grand total of forty minutes, I was freezing and seriously annoyed that he'd make her wait so long. It wasn't even professional. Trying to get some feeling back into them, I rubbed my hands together—at this rate, I wouldn't be able to take the stupid pictures because my fingers were numb.

Soon, an hour had passed. My back ached. Then it was another twenty minutes before Sayu finally stepped out of my car, walked carefully to the edge of the road in her heels, and hissed, "Matsuda!"

Groaning, I got up again, twisting to pop my back and stretching my arms over my head while I scanned the parking lot for any sign that someone was watching, but dinner rush was over, the café quieter. "Yeah?"

"Come here, please."

Still reluctant to leave my post and equipment, I picked up my camera, tripod and all, and was just about to dash across the street.

A roaring engine accompanied by the screech of tires burning on the asphalt cut through the night, and a small, white car zoomed around the corner, barreling right at me. I raised one hand to shield my face against the blinding, blue headlights.

The terrifying bang of gunfire reverberated through the night, drowning out everything else.

Instinct kicked in. I dropped the camera to the ground, screaming for Sayu to run, and dove back into the alley to duck behind the dumpster, covering my head with both arms.

Gunshots rattled off in the darkness around me. It was like a warzone. I heard bullets ricocheting off the walls and the fire escape over my head. Voices shouted and dogs started barking. The ground itself seemed to quake. I lay with my face pressed against the concrete, gritting my teeth, eyes closed, just praying I wouldn't be hit.

It felt like it went on forever, each shot like a ringing gong inside my ear. One bounced off the ground right beside me. My body jerked in terror. I hadn't expected this to be my last night alive.

Finally, the shots stopped and the tires squealed. I heard the engine roar away into the distance and slowly disappear.

After that, the only sound to disrupt the silence was that of my ragged breathing. My muscles felt knotted, and my body shook.

Slowly, I sat up on my knees, voice hitching dangerously close to a sob as I called, "S-Sayu!"

"Matsuda!"

She was already racing toward me. Behind her, a crowd of people milled in front of the café, some brave enough to run in my direction also, but she burst away from them, kicking off her heels to sprint across the street.

I wanted to run to her so bad. I wanted to catch her in my arms and never let go. Clumsily, I shambled to my feet, collapsing again immediately. "S-sayu…"

She hit me hard, flinging her arms around my chest. She buried her face in my shoulder and started to bawl. "Matsuda! Matsuda! Oh my God!"

Automatically, I threaded my hand into her hair and clenched her tightly against my body. I was shaking like a leaf in the wind, and my voice ached. I realized for the first time that I'd been screaming. "I-I'm okay…" I rasped. "Are you?"

She just cried, but she didn't seem to be injured.

Other people collected around us, carefully. A few of them were already on their phones, filming or calling for emergency services.

"Sayu. Sayu. It's okay. I'm all right."

She pulled away to stare up into my face with teary eyes and flushed cheeks. "Someone tried to—oh my God, Matsuda, you're bleeding!" Gently, she swiped at my forehead, fingers coming back crimson.

Both my palms were torn open too, and one knee was scraped where my pants had ripped. My right hand had a sliver lodged in the fat part of my thumb, and I looked down to see I was kneeling in a pile of broken glass. "I-I'm okay…"

Shaking her head, Sayu jerked away and dug her phone out of her bodice. "I can't believe this," she choked. "I'm calling Aizawa."

"No." I grabbed her hand, accidentally smearing blood on her creamy skin. "No, it's okay." I felt strangely calm, despite what just happened. "I'm fine. I promise."

"You idiot," she spat. "Someone tried to kill you."

"Yeah. But if the others come here you'll be in trouble…"

Shaking her head, she jerked away and pressed the phone to her ear.

Meanwhile, an older man with glasses and a white beard approached us. "Excuse me." He reached out his hand to help me to my feet. "I'm a doctor. Are you all right, son? Does anything hurt?"

"No. I'm fine. Thanks."

He looked me up and down like he didn't believe me, one hand on my shoulder. "The police have been contacted, along with the paramedics. They'll all be here soon, so why don't you both come inside? Just in case."

Next, he offered his hand to Sayu, but she ignored him, clinging to my arm and sobbing fiercely. I realized she was already on the phone with Aizawa. "I'm all right…but…but Matsuda…"

"Sayu!" I hissed. "Don't scare him."

"No, he's fine…but…someone tried to kill him," she wailed. "Just now! Right. Chiyoda."

I realized she was holding one of my bleeding hands carefully in her own, leading me across the street. The doctor walked on the other side of me, still gripping my shoulder, and a small group of interested people trailed along with us, an instant community created out of human decency.

Sayu gave Aizawa the address to the café and then said goodbye. She looked up at me. "He'll be here soon."

"Okay," I muttered flatly. That was the last thing I needed, Aizawa barging over here, barking orders and demanding to know what happened, telling me how dumb I'd been to do this by myself. It sounded so awful, I even glanced at my car, wondering if I might be able to get away before he showed up.

At the café, all the patrons and staff had come out to see what had happened. They made me sit down at a table on the patio. Some of them checked me over and asked if I was all right. The manager brought me some water. A mischievous waiter slipped me a shot of bourbon. Everyone promised over and over that the police and the ambulance were on their way, and I should remain calm.

I'd never realized a group of strangers could be so interested and concerned, but I'd also never felt so calm in my life. Everything was more like a dream, and the knowledge that I'd wake up soon turned the horror of almost dying hazy and dull.

Absently, I yanked the shard of glass out of my hand and watched the blood run all the richer.

Sayu swept the hair out of my eyes. I wondered where my mother was and what she'd have to say if she knew her youngest child had almost died. I wondered what my two sisters would say. I'd always been their baby. Best not to alarm them.

"What were you calling me over for?" I asked Sayu.

Mascara streaked her pretty face, and she dabbed at her eyes. "What?"

"You called me across the street. Why?"

"Matsuda…" Teary-eyed and pink-faced, she studied me, and I felt bad for making her cry. I'd give almost anything to kiss her again. "I don't think that's important right now."

Harshly, I drummed my fingernails against the iron table, listening carefully to the metallic rattle, wanting it to be the only sound on Earth. "Please tell me."

Sighing, she wiped her nose with the back of her wrist. "Rei called and told me we'd have to reschedule for later. That was all."

So that's how it was. He must have known I was going to be here somehow. Maybe he'd even tried to kill me himself—that would make sense if he had my IDs, both real and fake.

I couldn't believe I'd been stupid enough to lose my wallet. It had almost cost me my life. 

**Mogi**

* * *

Aizawa was driving too fast, with his siren blaring, but I tried to stay calm as we raced through the remnants of evening traffic. "What did Sayu say?"

He hadn't given me much information, and that was frustrating. Without information, how was I supposed to know whether or not I could panic?

Constant worry creased his forehead already, so maybe he simply didn't have much information to share. "She just said someone tried to kill him."

"No details?"

"Mogi, don't you think I'd give you the details if I had them? She was upset, crying. I'm lucky I got the address from her."

I found it odd that someone would try to murder Matsuda while he was on a date.

"I knew this would happen!" Aizawa's voice hitched with mild hysteria. "He's been taking way too many risks—obviously this psycho _thinks_ he's the one who killed Kira."

"That doesn't make sense," I told him, softly. "If he knows Matsuda shot Kira, why not shoot him the day of the carjacking?"

"Maybe he's sorted it out since then."

Or else we were just panicking because we do knew Matsuda shot Kira.

"I can't think of another reason someone would try to kill him," Aizawa insisted, insincerely, though, as if he did have _some_ idea.

Ever since I'd found out Matsuda had been investigating on his own, I'd thought he and Sayu must be doing something behind our backs—it couldn't be coincidental that Matsuda had started finding vital clues all by himself _and_ getting close to Sayu at the same time.

What I didn't understand was why Sayu would even want to be involved in the case, or why Matsuda would let her.

"Is he hurt?"

Not seeming to hear me, Aizawa raced through a stop light, and I clutched the door in a white knuckle grip.

"Is Matsuda hurt?" I asked again, not bothering to raise my voice.

"No. She said he isn't."

In that case, no need to be going code three.

I considered Matsuda's black eye. It had faded some since last Saturday, but it made me wonder if he wasn't in trouble over something that had nothing to do with the case.

What an inconvenient time to go rogue. We'd been up since dawn, desperately trying to find something out before tomorrow's ominous deadline, and now, just as we'd finally seen Miyami sneaking around an abandoned warehouse—presumably trespassing—we got called away, and of course, all of this was to protect Matsuda in the first place.

As usual, I doubted he was thinking very hard about how much trouble he was really in, but Aizawa, Ide, and I all understood it, and really we were trying to solve this case as quickly as possible to keep anything from happening to him, whether it be that this murderer uncovered his identity and made a move, or the NPA figured out he was the one the terrorist wanted and betrayed him.

"What was Miyami doing?" I wondered. "Normal citizens aren't allowed in that warehouse."

"No. That place closed years ago," Aizawa agreed with a certain reluctance. He had a one-track mind and obviously just wanted to focus on his current preoccupation.

But by simply being there, Miyami was acting suspicious, and for all we knew it might be the only thing we could ever get on him to begin with, but just as we'd moved in to confront him, Aizawa's had phone rang, and he'd said we had to leave immediately.

Even if I'd stayed behind, I couldn't make the arrest without backup—not in an illegal arms case—and Aizawa needed the car, so we did what we could, radioing Yoko and Okoshi, who were closest, asking around Kabukicho for information on Nishi Yamaguchi, and now they had to try and rush over to arrest Miyami themselves.

Frankly, though, even if they _found_ something useful about Yamaguchi—even if they found the exact information that got Chiba killed—even if they successfully arrested Miyami or Rei, it would still be too late.

Shaking his head, Aizawa muttered, "Shoulda arrested Miyami when we had the opportunity."

"We don't have anything on him."

"I mean we should have arrested him tonight instead of running over to Chiyoda."

I heaved a slight sigh.

"I know. All right? I know. We couldn't ignore Sayu." He pounded the steering wheel, suddenly shouting, "Damn that Matsuda! What could he be thinking?"

I tried to come up with something to calm him down. "This could be a new lead. If there's a witness—"

"It's too late! We were supposed to have this figured out by tomorrow. We just…underestimated these people."

For the rest of the way, I was silent, contemplating my own fears.

Twenty minutes later, we screamed into the parking lot of a fancy Chiyoda café, where the ambulance sat already, along with several police cruisers, lighting up the night with their red and blue lights. A group of citizens stood off to one side, being questioned, and a crowd of restaurant workers were talking to the police as well. I saw Matsuda sitting in the back of the ambulance with a medic wrapping his hand while Sayu clutched the other.

Not bothering to close his door, Aizawa jumped out of the car, so I went around to shut it for him, and then jogged after, half worried he'd chew Matsuda out. Between getting nowhere in the investigation, having one thing after another go wrong, and the trouble we all knew he was having with his wife, he seemed to have a little less patience every day.

Matsuda flinched when he saw us, so he must be expecting to get yelled at also. "H-hey, Aizawa," he said quietly. "Mogi…"

"Hey?" Aizawa echoed, like he couldn't believe Matsuda would say something so casual, given the circumstances.

Next, Matsuda lowered his eyes and murmured, "Sorry."

Sighing, Aizawa slipped his hands into his pockets. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah… Just a little scraped up."

As the medic finished with the small cut on Matsuda's forehead, he assured us, "He should be fine." He gave Aizawa and me a once over. "Are you his father?"

I think all three of us gave him the same questioning look. Granted, Matsuda appeared a little younger than he was, but I couldn't believe anyone could jump to that conclusion.

Then again, Matsuda didn't seem to have parents of his own to show up during a situation like this—he'd never seemed to, not even when he was younger—and frankly, at his age and marital status, they should still be the ones called to a scene like this. I supposed the medic expected as much as well.

"Gimme a break," Aizawa grumbled. "Do I look that old? I'm his partner."

Sayu, puffy-eyed from crying, gave a little sniff that almost sounded like a laugh, and the medic nodded gravely.

"Oh, I see." He glanced between the two of them with a knowing expression. "I just assumed he and the young lady—"

Matsuda turned beet red, and Aizawa practically shouted, "No, no! Not like that! We're partners—detectives—you know? We drive around in the same cruiser sometimes." As if it would somehow vouch for his orientation, he ripped out his badge and showed it to the man. "See? Captain Shuichi Aizawa."

"No offense was intended," the medic replied calmly, though it must have been jarring to be shouted at without warning. He started to pack up his supplies.

Looking mortified, Matsuda turned away, and I felt a laugh beginning to creep up my throat, partially out of relief and partially from the awkward nature the situation. I coughed to disguise it.

"Excuse you," Aizawa growled at me, and then asked of the medic, "Look, does he have to go to the hospital or can he go home? That's all I want to know."

The medic was starting to look a bit offended by Aizawa's lack of manners. "There's no need for him to go to the hospital…unless he wants to."

We all turned to Matsuda, and Sayu stroked his hand.

"I feel fine," he repeated, much too calmly, and even a little blankly.

"In that case, he should go home and rest. I believe he's in shock, so he shouldn't drive."

Matsuda scowled. "I can't drive? I feel totally fine."

"Someone tried to kill you, dummy," Aizawa muttered. "Use your head."

"I guess," Matsuda agreed, with a sigh.

For several seconds, I looked him over, but he was dressed down in a t-shirt and slacks, somewhat tattered, and wide-eyed. Next, I studied Sayu, who seemed to be prepared for a night out, though her feet were bare, her shoes missing. Based on their individual appearances, they didn't seem to be together.

"What the hell happened here?" Aizawa demanded brusquely.

While we looked expectantly at Matsuda, he fidgeted with the bandage on his hand, voice strangely cool. "Where should I start?"

"What about what you two are doing here in the first place," Aizawa told him, with all his general firmness.

As if they'd already discussed what answer to give us, Matsuda and Sayu exchanged the briefest glance, and she held his hand tighter. "We came for dinner," she said.

Never mind that a place like this was typically out of Matsuda's price range. He made decent money, but tended to spend it on frivolities, eating out or purchasing gadgets for his phone and his car. He was always walking into the station, bragging about the latest piece of nonessential tech he'd purchased. God, I was so glad he was okay and could keep doing that.

Suddenly, Sayu looked seriously at Matsuda, "Maybe we—"

Matsuda cut her off, "Anyway, I came out to get my wallet."

"You left your wallet in the car?" Aizawa demanded. "Can't you keep track of it?"

"Yeah, I guess I was distracted. While I was out here—"

The screeching sound of tires drowned him out suddenly, and headlights flooded the parking lot.

It was just Ide's cruiser, but Matsuda jumped out of his skin, a strangled cry struggling to escape from his mouth.

Aizawa raised an eyebrow at him.

Gently, I said, "Drive by, huh?"

"Y-yeah…" Matsuda pushed one shaking hand through his hair, staring nervously at the cruiser even as Ide and Kei stepped out. "I took cover, but it was close…"

"That's fortunate," I remarked. Police training had obviously saved his life.

Smoking furiously, Ide jogged up beside us. "Hey. I made it in time for the tailgate party," he joked wanly, and then stared at Matsuda. "You okay?"

Matsu nodded.

Kei joined us, looking a touch less cheerful than usual, and Aizawa caught them up to speed. "Apparently, our ace detective here got caught up in a drive by shooting."

Looking all the more startled and disturbed, Ide pulled the cigarette out of his mouth without taking a drag. "Drive by?"

"Oh my gosh!" Kei threw her arms around Matsuda's neck, nuzzling him with her forehead. "That's so scary! Are you okay?"

Disdainfully, Sayu looked her up and down, but said nothing.

Ide, also, looked dissatisfied, rolling his eyes and grunting, "Be professional for once in your life, Komagata."

"I'm okay," Matsuda assured Kei, prying her off.

Maybe he and Sayu really _were_ together. Maybe they had been here just to eat. I stepped back to survey our environment.

We were in a valet-attended parking lot, which meant all the cars were in the back somewhere, away from the street, but I noticed his sitting in front of the market next door, at the far edge of the parking lot, not so much as a nick in the paint. For that matter, none of the cars around it were damaged either. Across the street, I noticed damage to the walls of the mouth of an alley, and an overturned garbage can lay there, along with what looked suspiciously like a camera tripod tipped onto its side.

"Matsu," I said. "Which side of the street were you on?"

From his distressed expression, I gathered he had been intentionally withholding that detail, but he pointed across the street, resignedly. "Over there."

Aizawa and Ide both turned to study the alley.

"What were you doing?" Ide wondered.

"I…I was just…looking at something."

"Even after those two ex-cops were killed the exact same way?"

"Miraculous, isn't he?" Aizawa scoffed under his breath.

"I know." Matsuda rubbed the back of his neck. "It was stupid."

It didn't sound completely truthful to me, but I didn't see any point in grilling him right now; later, we might be able to get the full story from Sayu. In the meantime, I said softly, "At least you're all right."

"Okay, well what kind of car was it?" Ide asked. "Did you get a plate number?"

Matsuda blinked at him. "No… No… I didn't see much. It was white. I don't know anything else…"

Ide looked at Sayu next.

Slowly, she shrugged. "White. Compact. I didn't see plates, but I wasn't looking…" She shivered. "I'm sorry."

Aizawa mumbled under his breath something that sounded a lot like, "What am I doing?" and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I'm sure the cops around here already took as many eye witness accounts as they could get. I'll take Matsuda home… Kei, do you mind driving Sayu?"

"Not at all, Captain," Kei answered, smiling at Sayu.

"Mogi, you and Ide stick around here, see if you can collect some evidence. Give me a call later."

Immediately, Ide produced a notepad. "Got it."

"I'd like to come along with you," I told Aizawa.

The request seemed to catch him off guard, but when he saw my serious look he knew better than to question it. "All right, you're on board, but we're leaving now. Kei, take Matsuda's car to drive Sayu and then bring it to his apartment."

She gave him a thumbs up. "All righty, let's go."

"Just a sec." Sayu turned a long, tender look on Matsuda, and she was still clenching his hand tightly, the way I'd expect a girlfriend to in this situation. "Are you sure you're all right?"

He nodded, tiredly.

"I'm glad," she sighed. "Call me tomorrow?"

"Right."

With that, she leaned in close to kiss his cheek, and then let go of his hand at last, but slowly, like she didn't want to, and walked away with Kei. I heard Kei ask, "Want some gum, oneechan?"

"C'mon guys, move out," Aizawa ordered.

Immediately, Matsuda hopped down from the back of the ambulance, but his legs buckled and gave out. I managed to steady him before he fell on his face, and realized for the first time how badly he was shaking.

"You all right?"

"For the last time, I'm fine." The words sounded firm, but his voice was too quiet, and it was trembling also. As usual, he wanted to be tough for us.

Ide patted his shoulder. "Take it easy." Next he looked at Aizawa with a somewhat smug smile. "Drive carefully, all right? It's over."

"Mind your own business," Aizawa grumbled half-heartedly. "You nag."

Still chuckling to himself, Ide walked away to begin collecting evidence, and we half-led half-dragged Matsuda to the car. Aizawa drove. I sat shotgun, and Matsuda sank into the back with his forehead pressed to the window, breath leaving a steamy mark on the glass.

We reached his apartment in decent time. Aizawa was still driving a little fast, likely from leftover adrenaline, but I refused to comment. I wasn't Ide, and I didn't want to get snapped at over the fact _._

By the time we parked, Matsuda could walk again, and he was surprisingly casual as he led the way inside, saying, "I'm sorry it's so messy, but make yourselves at home." He threw his jacket over the back of the couch and dumped his keys onto the coffee table. "I've got food and drinks… You know. Just grab whatever you want."

In the light, he looked pale and anxious, eyes darting occasionally, and his nostrils were flared. He gave us a weak smile and headed toward his bedroom. "I'm gonna take a shower. You can let yourselves out though, right?"

Aizawa snorted like that was ridiculous. "I'm not leaving, Matsuda."

"Oh." Matsu paused in the hallway to look back at him. "Um. Okay. Well, make yourself at home." Next, he turned to me. "See you tomorrow, right, Mogi?"

"How hard did you hit your head?" Aizawa demanded. "Someone tried to kill you—you think I'd leave you here alone or expect you at work tomorrow?"

Matsuda sighed and leaned against the wall, exasperation taking over his confusion, like he may have been playing dumb. "Aizawa, I'm fine. Really. I don't need—"

"He's right," I intervened before they could start arguing. "You should stay home tomorrow."

"But tomorrow is—"

"I know." Aizawa sounded incredibly tired. "I know, and I don't care if tomorrow's doomsday and we need the help of every cop in the world; you're staying home."

Matsuda took some time to give him a steady look, as if trying to think of a way to change his mind.

"Look." Aizawa walked over to him and laid a hand on his shoulder. "You don't have to act so tough. If you freak out right now, no one's going to laugh at you."

"But… I'm really not freaked out. At least, I don't feel like I am." He lifted his hands to watch their violent shaking. "I mean, I guess I am a little gun-shy."

"We get it, Matsu. It's okay. I'm not saying you have to sit down on the couch and cry, I'm just saying it's okay if you're not fine."

I got the feeling he wasn't just referring to tonight's events, but I doubted Matsuda would catch on.

Still staring at his trembling hands, Matsuda asked in a quiet tone, "Guys… Who would try to kill me?"

"We're going to figure that out," I assured him.

"That's right," Aizawa agreed with unexpected patience. "It would help if you'd tell us everything you can."

Obviously Aizawa wouldn't have missed it the tripod tipped in the alley.

We both waited to see what Matsuda would say, and from the thoughtful look in his eye I could tell he was close to confessing everything, but at the last second he visibly changed his mind, stiffening his upper lip, pushed his hand through his hair, and mumbled, "Yeah…I guess. But is it okay if I tell you later? Right now…" He heaved a breath. "I'm kinda tired."

"Of course," Aizawa said gently. "Go get some sleep. I'll keep an eye on things."

Nodding, Matsuda finally muttered, "Goodnight, you guys," and continued down the hallway.

Once he'd gone, I scanned the apartment. Dishes hadn't been done in several days and the faucet was leaking, the floor needed to be swept, and such clutter ruled the living room, I didn't bother considering where to sit down.

Aizawa went over and dropped onto the couch, rubbing his face like he had a bad headache, and in the other room, I heard the shower turn on. "So," Aizawa said suddenly. "You wanted to talk, right? Let's talk."

Even though I had several things to say, I waited for him to start.

"This whole thing is obviously about Matsuda; the question is, who _would_ try to kill him? And what do they stand to gain?"

"Sounds like you've got a theory."

He rubbed his chin. "Just that some Kira fanatic _somehow_ uncovered the classified events of January 28th."

"There shouldn't be any written information concerning that day, other than Kira was apprehended by five members of the taskforce."

"Well, let's say for sake of argument someone told them."

"That would mean an NPA official is leaking information."

"Yeah. God knows we've got as many enemies _there_ right now as we have friends. If not more. Even then though, the perps would have to know what Matsuda looked like, and they'd have to know where he was going tonight. We already know that idiot dropped his ID somewhere, so _that_ mystery is solved. As for knowing where he was going tonight, they had to have followed him, overheard his conversation with Sayu, or set him up."

I leveled a serious look on him, lowering my voice. "Do you really believe they went to Chiyoda for a date?"

"No. Particularly not since that café is just a few blocks from where Atashi Rei lives. Matsuda must really think I'm stupid." He scowled down at the cluttered coffee table, where a smiley face mug beamed up at him. He turned it around. "Matsuda's a doofus, but I have a hard time believing he'd honestly go out on a date while the rest of us were working overtime to prevent a catastrophe."

"Not to mention the camera," I said.

Aizawa nodded. "The camera… Looks like the corporal's been sneaking around gathering information without us, so in answer to the original question—who would want to kill him—I say it has to be someone he was investigating who saw his face, found his ID, and felt threatened."

"Atashi Rei?"

"Sounds about right." He bit his thumbnail. "What I don't understand is why Matsuda suddenly feels like he has to sneak around behind our backs."

I thought back to the days of working with L. Matsuda had felt the need to investigate the Yotsuba group behind L's back, an action I hadn't personally identified with but could at least understand. Aizawa wasn't there at the time, so I told him, "The last time he did something this…careless, I think it's because he felt underappreciated, and he happened to be in a position where he thought he could take action. Impulse really."

"I don't think this is impulse. And I can't imagine why he'd feel underappreciated either, since he _is_ involved in the case."

All week, Matsuda had been at a desk, and though he hadn't bothered to complain much, I'd caught glimpses of dissatisfaction on his face, honest testaments to exactly how frustrated it made him to be, in his mind, excluded from the real investigating. I shrugged. "I think he wants to prove himself to you."

" _Why?_ " He turned the coffee mug around again and stared at the smiley face like it would give him some insight into Matsuda's psyche, whispering, "He shot _Kira_. I'm as impressed with him as I can possibly be."

I ventured to say, "You don't act it."

He shot me a questioning, almost offended look.

"Matsuda, you idiot," I intoned. "Our ace detective. That careless moron."

Folding his arms, Aizawa sat back and huffed, "Well, he _is_ most of those things. It doesn't mean I'm not impressed."

"You could tone it down."

"I'm not his father."

"You're his superior."

His expression darkened. "This isn't kindergarten, Mogi. His self-esteem issues aren't my responsibility."

Briefly, I wondered what Matsuda's father _was_ like, and if there was any correlation to the way he acted now, but, clearly, if Matsuda wouldn't call the man after a near death experience, like tonight, there must be some rift there. "You're potentially about to be chief—it makes sense for him to want to prove to you he's a good officer—and I don't think he expects us to be impressed by something he hates himself for."

Immediately, Aizawa blinked and frowned like he'd never thought of that.

"Furthermore…" I glanced toward the hallway, where I still heard the shower running. "I think Matsuda wants to help you, Aizawa."

"Me?" His expression transformed into confusion. "You mean us."

Even after what they'd put him through, he had no idea how concerned the three of us had been. For the most part, Aizawa had resumed to business as usual, almost acting as if that relentless interrogation had never happened, refusing to even consider all its true implications, and if I pointed that much out to him now, I knew he'd deny it, brush it off, not wanting to show anything outside of blazing confidence.

"You're in charge—you have a lot riding, personally, on this case." I hesitated, and then went on, quieter, "We all know…it's hard for you to be in charge of an investigation that isn't going well, especially since you're being asked to risk things you care about. Matsuda, of course, wants to alleviate some of that."

Also glancing toward the hall, he hissed, "He isn't doing a very good job, giving me a heart attack every other day."

"Possibly," I cleared my throat, "if you'd give him a task you know he'll excel at, he wouldn't feel the need to try and help you behind your back."

That was where L had mismanaged Matsuda also, turning him into an errand boy and making him look after Misa even when he'd made it clear he wanted to help. I'd thought then that it wasn't right, but I'd kept my mouth shut, telling myself there was no reasoning with L; when Matsuda almost lost his life over it, I'd told myself I'd made a mistake. I understood him. Even if I didn't know him that well, I'd anticipated he might do something careless once he felt pushed into a corner and undervalued, and yet I'd stood by and let it happen. Just because I wasn't in charge didn't mean I couldn't have helped him out some way, and I was determined not to do that again.

"He has a lot of energy and drive, he's good with people, and he's competent with his gun. He's an ideal undercover agent, and I'm not at all surprised that's what he always gravitates to."

Aizawa scowled. "You're talkative tonight. What are you saying? I should look the other way while Matsuda sneaks around playing secret agent because he's good at it?"

"No. But you're the boss. It's your job to put your men on tasks you know they'll excel at—you do it with everyone but him."

A long time passed, and Aizawa sat in silence, while I waited. In the back of the apartment, the water shut off.

Finally, he grumbled, "Maybe I don't know how to use Matsuda. He's so unpredictable, he might do something perfectly one day and screw it all up the next."

I couldn't help grinning a bit. "Yeah, I know. You don't want him to get hurt."

"Or _killed_ ," Aizawa corrected, saltily, but then he suddenly slumped down in the couch, saying, quieter than ever, "It's…more than that, Mogi. I don't want to be the one who fucks him up… Sometimes, I think about the day Soichiro died and how well Matsuda did on that mission—he does have the energy and instincts and skill with a weapon to do something like that—but he's not a killer."

Considering the way he'd shot Light, I wasn't completely convinced of that.

"Well," Aizawa amended, likely thinking of it as well, "not _currently._ He could be. And that's what I'm saying. If I turn Mr. Smiley into a cold-blooded killer, am I really doing him any favors?"

"That's a bit extreme."

"We're living in an extreme time. Anyway." He sat forward again. "None of this explains why he's investigating behind my back, because I made it perfectly clear that I'd sooner support him than stop him. So there's no logic. He investigates the same things we do all day long; who gets off work and hits the streets alone?"

"I think it has to do with Sayu."

Aizawa gaped at me. "Sayu? Why?"

"Last I checked, he's depressed and disinterested in anything outside of work. So why get involved with Sayu Yagami of all people out of nowhere?"

He got to his feet, starting to pace. I'd been afraid of that. "You know, that makes me think of something else. Don't you think it's weird we've gotten nowhere on this case?"

I didn't follow, so I waited.

"We've been investigating these seven deaths—not to mention Chiba's—for over a week, and the only good leads we've gotten have both come from Matsuda, who's apparently been sneaking around pretending to be a civilian at night."

"What do you think that means?"

"It's no secret all this Kira shit turned the people against us."

"You think they'd lie about anything they'd seen or hadn't seen? Omit details?"

" _Withhold information,_ " Aizawa snarled suddenly. "In a world where Kira is absolute, why should they have to tell the cops _anything_?"

I raised my eyebrow at him. "And you're telling me Matsuda figured that out before we did, and that's why he's investigating by himself?"

"I guess!" He threw his hands up.

Briefly, I mulled it over. "It doesn't sound like a conclusion he'd arrive at on his own, but if he knows something the rest of us don't, that would explain why someone tried to kill him."

"That doesn't help it make sense. Why did he go out of his way to confess to me that he's been investigating alone if he wasn't going to knock it off when I told him to? He _promised me_ -" His phone rang, and he cut off, grumbling as he answered it, "Hang on, Mogi. Okoshi? What did you find?" After listening a few seconds, his expression turned disappointed. "I see. I'm at Matsuda's apartment. He's okay. Would you guys mind hitting a few more bars to see if you can find anything on Yamaguchi? Thanks. After that, you can call it a night. Good. Bye."

"Miyami?" I asked.

"He was gone by the time they reached the warehouse. They looked around but didn't find anything suspicious."

I shook my head. "That's that."

Next, my phone buzzed, and I read the text. "Kei's outside. I guess, if you want, we can take a taxi and go meet up with Ide to try and find out more about Yamaguchi."

"Sure." He rubbed the bridge of his nose. "Don't run too late though. I have a feeling we'll need to be fresh for tomorrow."

"All right. Same to you."

I met Kei downstairs and we got a hold of Ide, who said he'd come meet us. We walked a few blocks, and Kei chattered about her time with Sayu, expressing several times how cute she thought she and Matsuda were.

I didn't know about that, but based on what I'd seen tonight, Sayu was apparently helping Matsuda investigate _,_ and the close proximity to Rei's house likely did mean they'd been trying to get something on the forger. The tripod in the alley suggested he'd hoped to get photographic evidence of it. He'd been dressed for investigating, Sayu had not. It couldn't be more obvious that he'd apparently arranged for Sayu to meet with Rei, and if they'd hoped to get photos, that seemed to mean only one thing—they'd found some way to prove he was a forger.

In that case, Sayu must have somehow managed to hire Rei for his services. It was an idea Ide had kicked around a couple days ago, but we'd hit a snag in not knowing who to send, because, assuming he was watching our squad, we'd need someone Rei wouldn't recognize, and there just weren't enough people who wanted to help us. Matsuda could have taken the idea to Sayu and executed it on his own.

 _I got all that from an evening gown and a tipped over tripod. Maybe I am cut out to work with Near._

Assuming Aizawa was right about people not trusting the police anymore, my whole premise for joining the force had been to protect and save people had been destroyed, and I wasn't a man for thankless heroics.


	11. Chapter 11

**Aizawa**

* * *

"Hi, Honey!" I tried to smile and sound cheerful.

Eriko saw through that immediately. "What's wrong?"

"Oh, nothing, nothing. Just checking in."

"You sound happy. Something has to be wrong."

I frowned. "Is that a joke, Eriko?"

"One of us has to have a sense of humor, Shuichi. So what is it?"

Sighing, I brushed my hand over my skull. "Can't put anything past you, babe. Look, everything's all right. Somebody tried to kill Matsuda."

"Somebody tried to _kill_ Matsuda," she repeated, incredulously. "But everything's all right."

"I'm all right, and he's not hurt… Everything's fine." Again, I made myself smile, trying to hide how sick the words made me feel, and the longer this went on, the surer I felt that noting was fine at all.

Eriko gave a sigh of her own, "Shuichi… I really wish you'd get off this case."

"Yeah… I really wish that it were _possible_. What kind of case would you like me to get on, by the way? The missing zoo panda mystery? That should launch me straight to the top."

"Don't be snide with me. Your car blew up. One of your friends nearly got killed—what, twice now?—to say nothing of all the people who have already been killed. Why, yes, Shuichi, the missing zoo panda mystery sounds exactly right just now."

"Why don't I just go work at the zoo and forget all about the NPA? Why don't I just trash the whole dream, dump my guys in the gutter, turn in my badge, and go be the new zookeeper? We can all get in free to see the animals forever, and everything will be perfect."

" _Why_ don't you take those sensitivity classes you failed and shove them up your ass, Shuichi?"

"I was never in sensitivity training."

"I _know_!"

"Well, why don't you get off my back?"

I heard her slam a pan down. "I'll tell you why! Because every night I'm stuck here alone, waiting up for you, wondering if you're alive, and every time the phone rings I'm _positive_ it's Hideki calling to tell me you've been shot!"

"All right…" I relented, feeling foolish and guilty. "I'm sorry. I'm really sorry. I'm just tired. You're right. It's not fair. Just a little longer on this case though, Eriko, and then I'll be chief, and I won't be on the streets anymore."

"You'll never be chief if you get killed."

I didn't know what to say to that. With the higher-ups acting fishy, I might not get to be chief even if I didn't get killed, and she knew that as well as I did.

My wife sighed. "I'm sorry too. Is Matsuda okay?"

I glanced toward his bedroom, but as far as I knew he was sleeping now. "Yeah, I think so. He's pretty shook up…" I hesitated, knowing what I was about to say might send us spiraling right back into an argument. "I…think I need to stay with him. For tonight."

"Really?" Her voice dripped with disappointment. "I mean… Is that necessary?"

"I wouldn't do it if it wasn't necessary."

"Couldn't you get one of your men to stay with him instead? Someone who doesn't have a wife and children to come home to?"

Doing my best to let her scathing tone slide, I said, "Look, all my guys are still out there on the streets, working over time for _me_." I remembered, a little guiltily, what Mogi said about how much they wanted to help me. "I'm pushing them hard, and they deserve to go home to their own beds."

"What about you?" she asked quietly. "You deserve to curl up on Matsuda's couch?"

"Maybe I do if I nearly let him get shot." I couldn't control what Matsuda had done tonight or the danger it had put him in, but Mogi was right that I must have forced him into a position where he felt dissatisfied, pushing him to take matters into his own hands. That was my failure as his superior, and that did mean I deserved to sleep on his couch in case someone came looking to finish the job.

Eriko's voice paled. "Someone _shot_ at him?"

"Yes. And they're still out there. You have to understand that makes it my priority to make sure he's safe."

She stayed quiet a while, and then asked in a sad voice, "So what do I deserve, Shuichi? Do I deserve to spend yet another night without you?"

"No," I agreed, equally soft. "You deserve the best I have to give, just like they do. I'm just sorry I can't give it to you right now…"

Eriko sighed. "All right. You've convinced me. It's okay. Just…when _will_ you be home?"

"Tomorrow night. I promise."

"Okay," she agreed again. "Then do your best, and I'll see you tomorrow."

I tried to smile, no matter how much I wished I could be there with her, to feel her in my arms, and how terrible it felt to be separated. "I love you. Hey, put one of the kids on."

"They're already in bed, Shuichi."

"Oh. Okay… Well, go give them a kiss for me then."

"I will."

As we ended the call, I felt more frustrated than ever. She couldn't keep this up forever.

It was nearly eleven, but sleep seemed impossible, not just because Matsuda's couch was lumpy or I was keyed up over what almost happened to him, but also because between the conversations I'd had with Mogi and Eriko, I felt very close to giving up altogether. For all I knew, someone else would do a much better job of leading this investigation. Maybe someone else _could_ find all the leads and catch all the bad guys while still protecting their men and satisfying their wife.

 _Sounds like a super cop_ , I thought sourly, and turned on the TV for a distraction.

I'd never meant for everything to take precedence over Eriko, but honestly, if Matsuda hadn't been involved in a shooting I would have been out all night trying to dig up some evidence anyway, and she would have liked that even less.

Not wanting to feel useless, I searched around until I found a phonebook in the mess—a strange discovery in the apartment of a guy so addicted to his phone—and then I started calling every bar listed in Kabukicho to ask about Nishi Yamaguchi. Leaving all tact behind, I told them I had heard that he worked there and that I wanted to talk to him, thinking I'd at least hear somebody tell me he had died, since that's obviously where he'd gone.

 _How else could a guy drop off the face of the planet like this?_

Looking for him was like running into a wall. We couldn't get in touch with his family, or really anyone who knew him. Public records told us he'd been born and raised in the country, and that at one point he'd been licensed to own a hunting rifle. That at least might make him qualified to have shot the men outside of Yama's, but it didn't tell us where he'd gone or how he'd gotten mixed up in this mess.

Whatever Chiba had known about Yamaguchi, I had to assume it must have been a little more important than the fact that he had been a bumpkin turned bartender. Chances were, he had at least figured out _which_ bar Yamaguchi used to work for. While I didn't see how that info could be dangerous by itself, but I did feel relatively certain that it had gotten Chiba killed: he was the only one of us who'd come up with any kind of lead after the evidence was taken.

 _Other than Matsuda, and someone almost got him tonight._

The perp wanted something really specific out of all this, and that's all I could figure out.

 _So where is Yamaguchi's body?_ They killed him and seemingly sponged his very existence right off the earth.

 _If L were here he'd have this cleaned up by now._

No. I couldn't start thinking that way. We didn't need L to solve this case. Without a doubt, the person we were dealing with was smart and violent, but they were nowhere near as smart as Light had been…

 _Damn you, Light. All this is_ your _fault, not mine._

I didn't want to think about Light ever again if I could help it, so for a long time, I sat back and studied the junk on Matsuda's table. In addition to the emoji face cup, he had stacks of magazines—the one at the top had Misa's face slapped on it along with the date of her death—empty beer bottles, several dirty plates, and a stalk of bamboo doing surprisingly well considering who was taking care of it.

Examining Matsuda's table didn't help either, so I went and made a pot of coffee, sitting at the breakfast bar to jot down some of the more confusing points of the case, to see if I could notice any correlations between them. I felt so tired, though, the black characters on the white paper seemed blurry.

In a while, I returned to the couch, blankly watching television, feeling hopeless.

After midnight, Matsuda emerged from his room, blinking at me like he'd forgotten I was around, shoved a pile of crap off the couch onto the floor, and sat down next to me.

He mumbled a hey, and I snorted a vague greeting back at him.

For a while, he focused hard on the television.

"Couldn't sleep?" I asked.

"No. You can go home if you want. I'm sure I'll be fine." He toyed with the bandage on his hand.

Knowing happy-go-lucky Matsu, it had never crossed his mind that someone might show up to finish him off. Not wanting to scare him, I muttered, "I said I'll stay, so I will."

"If you want." He started cruising through the channels, creating a montage of nonsensical noise until I thought I'd snap, but I forced myself not to say anything about it. In time he sighed, tossed the remote onto the coffee table, and we sat there watching some late night talk show.

"TV sucks," he complained.

"Yeah."

I kept thinking about the case, and he played with his bandages. Eventually, he unwound them completely and spent a few minutes examining the angular cut across his palm before half-assed tying the bandage back on. "Aizawa, I have something to tell you."

I looked at him from the corner of my eye, and he stayed focused on the TV. I would _love_ to hear anything from him that might help all this make sense, but I said, "You don't have to tell me tonight."

"I've been thinking," he said distantly. "For hours and hours now, I've been thinking about Chiba, and how he died before he could tell us what he'd learned. I've been thinking that if something happens to me…"

My heart seemed to choke, but I tried to sound skeptical and even annoyed. "Nothing's gonna happen to you, Matsuda."

Still he acted like I hadn't spoken. "At first, it didn't register with me what happened tonight. Now that some time has gone by… I've played it over and over in my head, and I know… I know I could have died."

"Matsuda," I sighed. "Not now, okay?"

Fiercely, he faced me. "C'mon, Aizawa, first the car bomb, then those punks, and now this. Do you think it's a coincidence?"

"No, I don't. But you haven't helped by taking matters into your own hands. I tried to tell you that already." I was still doing a decent job of staying patient at least.

It derailed him, so he had to pause, gather his thoughts, and start over.

"Aizawa…I know you think I'm just being stupid, but I really did have a good reason for taking matters into my own hands."

"I'm sure," I grumbled, not wanting to even begin arguing with him.

"Whether it was stupid or not, I got somewhere, and I _know_ something you guys don't. If someone kills me before I tell you …I don't know what will happen…"

Disturbed by those words, I finally met his gaze. "Fine. What?"

He pulled something out of his pocket, setting it on the coffee table in front of me. It was a tape recorder, hardly any bigger than a cigarette lighter. "Sayu and I weren't on a date tonight—we set Rei up and were going to get some hard evidence that he's a forger so you can arrest him."

"Matsuda…" I sighed, rubbing my forehead. "Why?"

That one tired word was all it took to get him babbling again, "We needed a lead. And…I know I screwed things up with tailing Rei _and_ Miyami. I guess I thought I could fix that."

"No one asked you to fix anything," I reminded him, barely strangling my agitation.

"I…I know," he said, hopelessly. "But Rei met Soichiro once, and I thought, since Sayu sort of had a connection to him—"

"Might as well get her involved too," I sneered, throwing my hands up. "Why the hell not, right?"

Matsuda frowned. "I didn't know what else to do."

"And I guess following my orders was completely out of the question."

Stumped, he stared back at me.

"You promised me," I reminded him. "You _promised_ you weren't going to do this anymore."

"Sorry," he muttered, less than apologetically. "But the point is, I got everything you need on tape, without following your orders."

"Great, so why don't _you_ just be the captain, and I'll—wait." I gaped at him. "What do you mean everything?"

"You'll have to listen to it," he grumped. "But if nothing else, Rei admitted to making some fake IDs just a couple weeks ago."

I sat up so fast I gave myself a head rush, and snatched the recorder from the table, just as my frustration came full-circle. "You should have shown this to me a long time ago, Matsuda."

"Yeah, but I didn't want you to know Sayu was involved."

A glare descended over my face. "Oh, you are something, Matsuda. Really. What about tonight then? What were you guys trying to get? Pictures?"

He looked a bit surprised. "How'd you know…?"

Struggling to keep my temper, I got up and walked away from him, staring out the window at the red glow of Tokyo tower in the distance, and the sparkling of a million lights. None of it helped me feel any calmer.

Every time I felt sure Matsuda had reached his peak of idiocy he came back with something even better.

"So Mogi was right," I said. "You dropped your wallet in Atashi Rei's garden, he realized you were a cop and that you were onto him, he found out you used Sayu to set him up, and now he wants you dead. That's brilliant, Matsuda."

"Aizawa." I heard him stand up. "We were running out of time."

Unable to help it anymore, I wheeled on him. "That's no excuse! You and Sayu know enough to not only put Atashi Rei away for years, but you must have found a link to the man responsible for _all_ of this! Of course they want you dead!"

"Wait…" Color drained from his face. I had thought he couldn't get any paler. "Are you saying Sayu could be in danger too?"

"I'm saying Sayu _is_ in danger. Right now!"

"Then we have to arrest him right away! The tape's enough. We'll just go get him."

I shook my head, hardly able to believe he thought it could be that simple. "If Rei knows what you were up to tonight, it will be almost impossible to arrest him. He could skip town or go underground."

"That doesn't mean we shouldn't try!"

"Of course we're going to _try_." Muttering a few choice words, I dug my phone out and called Ide, a little surprised to hear him alert.

"What now, Shuichi? More bad news?"

"Are you still with Mogi?"

"Yes, of course."

I frowned. "I told you guys to call it a night before it gets too late."

Ide chuckled. "Yeah. Anyway, what do you want?"

"Stop whatever you're doing and go arrest Atashi Rei."

"Okay," he agreed, easily. "On what charges?"

"Forgery. Apparently, we had some evidence all this time and _somebody_ just didn't say anything about it."

Matsuda cringed.

"That sounds like our ace detective again," Ide grumbled, with a trace of annoyance. "Anything else?"

"Yeah, is Kei still with you?"

I heard Kei's voice chirp, "I'm here, Cap!"

"Send her to the Yagami's house immediately. I'll call the station and arrange for someone to come relieve her soon, but someone has to be there right now."

"We've only got one cruiser right now, Shuichi. What's the priority?"

Dammit, I'd forgotten that. Did being the boss mean keeping track of who had what cruiser at what time? Sighing, I scraped my fingers back across my head and glanced furtively at Matsuda before giving a stony answer, "Arrest Rei. It has to be done tonight."

"What about _Sayu_?" Matsuda hissed.

"I'll call Yoko and Okoshi—they'll have to go to the Yagami's house."

"Understood," Ide said quickly. "We're on it."

"Be careful, okay? I'm pretty sure he's the one who tried to take Matsuda out."

I heard him give another low laugh. "Matsuda. Tomorrow, you'll have to tell me what the hell that dumb ass did."

"Oh, I will. Don't worry about that."

I hung up and called Okoshi, instructing him to watch Sayu Yagami. It was the best I could do for the time being.

"There." I faced Matsuda again. "Every chance we ever had of finding something on Yamaguchi or Miyami tonight is gone, but there."

He looked at the floor. "Yeah, but if we catch Rei—"

"I seriously doubt we're going to. It doesn't look like we'd catch Miyami either, and Yamaguchi might as well have never existed. It doesn't even matter what we do at this point." I threw myself onto the couch again, feeling like a worse leader than ever. My men were stretched too thin—I didn't have enough. That wasn't my fault, was it? Maybe I should be out there with them. What if someone came and tried to kill Matsuda?

Slowly, he sat down next to me again. "What do you think's gonna happen tomorrow?"

"It's already tomorrow," I sighed and shut my eyes.

The reality of those words seemed to hit him hard, and he spent a long, long time sitting in silence. "If it's really bad… If a lot of people are going to die…we shouldn't waste any time."

"What are you talking about?"

"I-I know I'm not usually on the same page as you guys," he went on shakily, "but I think we have to do whatever it takes, no matter the cost."

I looked sternly at him. "There are _rules_ , Corporal."

"No." He shook his head, voice turning hard. "Kira destroyed all that. The rest of the world doesn't want to play by your rules, Aizawa."

"They're not _my_ rules, Matsuda, they're just _the_ rules."

"If they're not playing by them but we are, how can we possibly hope to win?"

"I don't know," I admitted quietly, and it was too late at night to consider such a bleak possibility.

Matsuda snarled, voice so dark I barely recognized it, "This asshole is already making demands—he _thinks_ he's going to win—but we know what he wants, and we can use that against him."

"Stop it right there," I growled back at him. "I told you I don't want to hear any more about that crap, ever!"

"What if it's all we have?"

Several moments passed of us glaring at each other, and I was astonished by the defiance in his expression, and how much he really meant what he was saying.

"All right," I spoke through my teeth. "Fine. Walk me through it. How should we do it?"

Still, Matsuda hesitated, like he hadn't been expecting me to give in so easily. "Well," he said, slowly. "They gave us a location. If you set up a meet to hand me over—"

"Why would I do that? After everything that's happened, it must be clear to everyone—including this psychopath—that I won't do that."

He thought a moment. "Then we'll have someone else do it."

"Like who? Ryo and Raoki? They'd _love_ to hand you over. How do I know they'd play along with the sting? How do I know they wouldn't just put a bullet in your head themselves?"

His face paled. "I…I don't know…"

Not thinking ahead, as usual. I snorted, hoping that realization would be enough to make him drop it.

But Matsuda pushed. "So…what if I drive myself? Tell them I don't want anyone else to get hurt, and hand myself over. Then you could track my location via GPS—"

"Using what? Your stupid phone? What if you drop it? What if they take it? What am I supposed to do, implant a chip under your skin?"

This time, he sounded like I was being ridiculous. "C'mon. This is Japan. There's gotta be some kind of device they wouldn't be able to detect."

"Fair enough," I snorted. "So we find the perfect device and then what? Let them stuff you in the trunk of a car, tied up and gagged, and then track you on GPS?"

His eyes darkened, and I knew he hadn't gotten that far in the process. He just assumed we could stop them before that point _._

"What if they throw you on a plane and take you to another country? What then? What if they decide to just kill you on the spot? What if I can't get there in time, Matsuda? What then? Are you saying you're willing to throw your life away to solve this case?"

"Aizawa, I'm just saying—"

"You don't know what you're saying," I barked. "I'm trying to show you—there are too many holes! Unless you can fill them in for me and outline a plan that at least sounds foolproof, the answer is no."

"You could try to come up with a plan," he challenged, "if you weren't so against my idea in the first place."

"Matsuda," I snapped, twisting in my seat to glare into his eyes. "Do not ask me to sacrifice you to achieve a temporary peace."

Again, my words seemed to stump him, and he stared back at me a while before muttering. "I'm not talking about that, Ai," gently though, as if trying to comfort me. "I'm talking about using what he wants to end this."

"Yeah, well if you think of some way to do that that won't get you killed, let me know. Until then, I am sticking to the rules."

For the rest of the night, we barely spoke to one another. I didn't know if Matsuda was sulking, or if he just had a lot on his mind, but all I could manage was to worry over what tomorrow might bring. For all I knew, the whole thing could blow over—I wanted to think that was possible—but I just wasn't optimistic enough to honestly believe that.

Once or twice, I followed the train of thought Matsuda had gotten on, trying to imagine a scenario where we could use this sicko's demands to our advantage, but I just didn't know enough about his motives to think of a good trap.

Sometimes I managed to doze off, but I didn't get any decent sleep, and Matsuda didn't appear to sleep at all. He sat up on the edge of the couch, perfectly alert, with his head slightly cocked like he was listening for something. A couple times, I mumbled at him, "Go to sleep, Matsuda," but he never answered, and it looked like he was oblivious to the existence of the real world altogether.

By the time six o'clock crept in, I felt stiff and more irritable than ever, tangled up in a crankiness not even a whole pot of coffee could fix, but I forced myself to rise from the couch. "Better get moving…"

Blinking his reddened eyes at me, Matsuda muttered, "Feel free to use the shower."

After spending the night on the couch, I felt gross and maxed out, so I did shower, and then I put on yesterday's suit again and headed out around six-thirty, calling to him, "I'll send someone over."

"Thanks, but no thanks," he mumbled sullenly.

"I'm going to. Hey, try to get some rest."

He didn't answer. I tried not to care that he was obviously angry with me, but I found myself wishing I knew the words it would take to really make him understand what made his idea so poor, and that I had the time to say them.

"We'll talk more later," I told him, and he just nodded.

Sighing, I headed out the door. "Bye, Matsu."

In the cab, I leaned against the window, trying to get more sleep, but my mind kept drifting back to all my fears and apprehensions, and all too soon the station loomed over me, dark as a shadow with all the evil possibilities to come.

My team met me first in the conference room, exhausted, bleary-eyed and yawning, grumbling and bickering. Even ever-stoic Mogi looked irritable. Kei was sucking down iced coffee. Ide's normally perfect hair and immaculate suit were both rumpled. Okoshi looked like the all-nighter may have even taken some years off his life. Yoko alone still appeared composed and alert, her eyes bright with anticipation.

"Did you get some sleep?" I asked her.

"Not much. I'm just vigorous."

"Hn. Nice to know one of us is."

Kei muttered, "Lucky bitch."

Yoko looked coolly at her. "Maybe you should go back to America and lie down, Kei. We Japanese try not to be so rude."

"I _am_ Japanese," Kei growled. "I just happened to grow up in America."

"I see. Well, in any case, your Japanese parent failed you, whichever they may be."

Kei seethed, and I rolled my eyes. "Everyone sit down, alright? It's doomsday, but let's try not to bite each other's heads off."

"Look who's talking," Ide sniffed in a half-teasing voice. He had already been through three cigarettes since I came in.

"What about Rei?" I asked him.

"It's no good. Mogi and I went to his house, but he's gone. There's no telling where he went."

"I figured as much. What about the Yagamis?"

Yoko reported, "No activity there all night."

"Then I take it no one found anything on Yamaguchi?" I asked, even though I didn't really need to.

Everyone shook their heads.

"Who knows how Chiba found anything on that bastard to begin with?" Ide snorted. "I have a hard time believing he ever had a lead; we just think he did because Miss America over here told us he was excited that day."

Kei scowled at him. "He told me he found something important, Taniki-tan."

He shot her a ferocious glare. "I told you not to call me that."

"Matsuda calls you that."

"Matsuda's no model of professionalism. Besides, he—"

Mogi spoke over them, just in time to keep me from losing my temper completely. "I have some information, Aizawa. I just got it this morning." He waved a file over his head.

"Is it good news?" I wondered.

"Do you think it is?" Ide grumbled.

"It's not," Mogi agreed. "It's the coroner's report from Chiba's house fire."

I went so far as to hold my breath. As the room fell silent, I realized I'd been drumming my fingers on the table for a while. "What's it say?"

Mogi frowned and cleared his throat, speaking in a tight voice. "The corpse found in the debris… It wasn't Chiba's body."

I froze as I stared at him, and the others gaped as well.

Nervously he finished, "The dental records matched those of Nishi Yamaguchi."

I nearly fell out of my chair. "What? Then… You mean?"

He nodded.

Yoko whispered, "Someone left Yamaguchi's body as a decoy so we'd think Chiba was dead."

Mouth still hanging open, heart beginning to pound, I turned, inevitably, as it seemed I always did, to Ide. "Then…where _is_ Chiba?"

Normally narrow eyes as round as full moons, he shook his head, stammering inarticulate sounds. Seeing my lieutenant without theories or words left me feeling more lost than I ever would have imagined.

The door burst open suddenly, and Matsuda bolted in, muttering under his breath, "Holy shit, holy shit. You're missing it."

"You?" I watched him run to the counter, snatch the remote, and turn on the TV. "What are you doing…? Here…?"

Not answering, he cycled through the channels until he found the one he wanted, where a hideously gaunt face stared back at me, black as coal, with bulging, round eyes and tiny dots for pupils. The mouth was drawn in a jagged smile, displaying rows of sharp teeth, and wicked horns curved up out of its head.

"W-what the hell is that thing?" Yoko whispered, sounding unnerved.

"A mask," Kei hissed.

My heart raced as I stared at it. Mask or not, it looked undeniably evil.

A voice, harsh as a winter's night and rough as sand, spoke, muffled under the mask, apparently in the middle of a speech. "I am the Reaper, lord of the Shinigami, the chosen disciple of Lord Kira, and it has fallen on me to see his wishes carried out."

"Shinigami," Ide whispered, and turned a long stare on me.

"I've given you a chance to hand over the man responsible for the murder of Lord Kira, but it seems you have chosen death, and I assure you, the NPA in its entirety will suffer the consequences of this choice."

The screen changed again, showing a blank room with a man tied to what appeared to be a dentist's chair. It took me a moment to recognize Izanagi Chiba—he was haggard and sick, his skin so pale it almost matched the white room around him. Red blood smeared his face and hands, and I realized with horror that his eyes had been gouged out and all his teeth were missing, along with several of his fingers and one of his ears.

"Fuck…" Ide whispered.

As the video played on, we watched the man in the mask enter the screen, carrying a large hunting knife. With demonic cheer, he waved to the camera, and then brought the knife down, severing one of Chiba's fingers.

Chiba screamed, but I didn't hear any sounds other than a horrifying wheeze, and red poured from his mouth, where his tongue must have been cut out.

I stomach flopped hard, and I clenched a fist to my lips.

Kei shrieked and her hands flew to her mouth, eyes glazing over.

"Turn it off," Okoshi ordered suddenly. "Turn this madness off!"

Matsuda lifted the remote, but I caught his wrist and stopped him, hardly able to keep myself from screaming too, and my voice came out so softly I was afraid the others wouldn't hear it. "If you don't want to see this…you'd better leave the room."

 _I_ had to watch it. _I_ had no choice. _I_ was in charge of this investigation, and _I_ had let this happen to Chiba.

No one moved. On the screen, the man in the mask cut and stabbed Chiba enthusiastically, tearing lesions into his skin and carving away chunks of flesh whole. No matter how desperately Chiba thrashed around, he couldn't make a sound.

My eyes burned, but I forced them to stay open. _Chiba…I'm sorry…_

As quickly as it started, it all ended. The man in the mask slashed Chiba's throat, scarlet gushed and sprayed from the wound, and the film rolled on, even as Chiba convulsed and jerked, fighting through his last few breaths of life..

I heard Kei sobbing in the corner, and someone—Okoshi, I thought—was retching into the waste basket.

I wanted to run away.

But the screen changed back, and we all stared that evil face in the eyes. The horrible voice filled my head. I pressed one fist against my mouth again, shaking violently. For the first time in my life, I felt like I could pass out.

"The man who just died was named Izanagi Chiba—he was an NPA detective. Lord Kira knew the treachery of the NPA. He knew that in order to make a perfect world the police would have to be removed. That is why I believe he confronted the five members of the task force on the 28th of January." He drew a reverent pause before saying, "Unfortunately, those officers were found to be particularly disobedient, and they succeeded in killing Lord Kira."

"This can't be happening," a voice said quietly.

"Do not mourn though, my brothers and sisters. I believe Lord Kira has chosen this opportunity—perhaps even allowed it—so that we might prove our loyalty to him. After we've spilled the blood of the man who murdered him, Lord Kira will return to Earth to rid the world of all evil, including corrupt politicians, oppressive authorities seeking to exploit humanity for their own gain, and military factions such as the police." He spread his arms wide and slowly lifted them upward. "Brothers and sisters, it is my solemn duty to not only rid Japan—the birth place of our Lord—of the NPA, but the world of police and government in general, and when Kira returns, we will have no further need for them. Kira _is_ justice."

"This cannot be happening," the voice whispered again. It was close to me. Familiar. I didn't recognize it.

"Brothers and sisters, it is my vow and my duty to kill the man who murdered our god Kira. That alone will appease me, and only when he has died will I cease the slaughter of the National Police Agency officers, and Lord Kira will return to rule us in peace."

Outside the door, someone shouted my name.

"This can't be happening." The voice was starting to annoy me. Who _was_ it, and why wouldn't he shut up?

"I now offer this opportunity to every man, woman, and child who believes in justice: stand with me, and together we will overthrow the NPA, as well as all oppressors in the world, and we will be happy."

"This _can't_. Be. _Happening_."

"It is, Shuichi," Ide told me gravely. "It's happening."

Out in the hall, the voice yelled for me again, but I couldn't tear my eyes from the screen.

"Meanwhile," the Reaper continued, "I realize the police will continue to hunt me. But know this—you will never find me, you cannot catch me, and even if you do, you cannot kill me. I am a servant of Kira, and my Lord will protect me. I advise you to end this futile pursuit and submit to your punishment. Even now, your evil hearts may be made clean."

Someone banged on the door. "Aizawa!"

"If you refuse, all of you, every last one of you," he pointed directly at the screen—directly at _me_ and my investigators—with one blood-stained finger. "Will die."

The door flew open again, and Lieutenant Shinda rushed in, gray eyes as big as saucers, chest heaving. "Aizawa… Aizawa, the others…"

"Shut up, Shinda," I growled. "We're trying to hear."

"Perhaps it's not that simple to you," the Reaper mused, "so I'll make it easy. Bring me the man responsible for Kira's death, and I will spare your lives."

At my shoulder, Shinda whispered, "They're coming. They...want to kill you…"

Dutifully, I nodded. That only made sense.

The maniac on the television said, "There's no sense in loyalty anyway. I will kill an officer every day until Kira's murderer is brought to justice. I will kill one today, and then two tomorrow, three the day after that, and so forth in that trend, until only the four heretics remain. If by then the four of you still have not seen that protecting your comrades is futile, you will die too, and the man who killed Kira will stand alone with his crimes."

"This is absurd!" Ide shouted, surging to his feet. "Turn the fucking TV off!"

"No," Mogi argued quietly. "We have to make sure we hear everything he says."

Ide stood next to me, trembling with anger, spitting, "We shouldn't be listening to this shit, Shuichi."

The masked man laughed to himself. In the distance, voices flooded up the hall.

Shinda hissed. "Here they come…"

"You may think you can outsmart me," the Reaper gloated, "but Kira is on my side, and I already have a name to go with the man who killed Lord Kira; in time I will know his face as well, and then he will die." He stood quietly for a second or two, staring into the screen with his glass eyes. "I promise," he grated out. "I _do_ know your real name, and I _will_ find you, Taro Matsui."

My heart lurched to a stop, and I had to brace myself against the table, barely remembering how I'd gotten to my feet, unsure how to stay there.

 _The ID… It wasn't a coincidence._

"This can't be happening," I said again, louder than before.

Behind me, Lieutenant Raoki's voice screamed. "You four!"

Reluctantly, I turned away from the TV to look at him, lingering at the door with a mob of what had once been my colleagues and friends. Raoki stabbed a finger in my direction. "This is your fault!"

"You said you were going to catch this maniac!" Ryo agreed hysterically. "You asked us to trust you!"

"They've come to crucify us…" I muttered to myself.

"What are you going to do now, Aizawa?"

I wheeled on them suddenly, roaring, "We're still going to catch him, obviously!"

"He's going to kill us all now, just because you four were too stubborn to hand over one man!"

Ryo charged forward, dark eyes flashing, pudgy face quivering beneath his hate and terror. "It was you, wasn't it, Aizawa? You impatient son of a bitch!" It looked like half the department stood behind him, all agreeing that it must have been me, shouting that they should sacrifice me before anyone else got killed.

"Even if it wasn't you," Ryo shouted, reaching for me. "You're in charge of this investigation! If you die, he'll be satisfied!"

I stood stiff and ready, not sure what I would do when he actually put his hands on me, and he'd always been such a coward, I didn't know if he'd have the guts to try anything.

His fingers brushed the lapel of my jacket.

Ide threw a single right hook, sending Ryo reeling back into Raoki, blood gushing from his lips and nose as they both tumbled to the floor.

"Hideki…" I gasped, and I was honestly shocked as fuck.

He stepped in front of me and prowled toward them like he was going to fight every one of them off. "I dare you. All of you. _Touch_ Shuichi Aizawa and find out what happens!"

Calling for our blood, the mob rallied and surged.

"We can't!" Okoshi cried. "We can't give into terrorism, or else Chiba will have died for nothing!"

"You'd rather see more innocent men die for nothing?" Getting up again, Ryo spat out a tooth and wiped his bleeding face, leveling his spiteful glare on Ide.

"We haven't done anything wrong!" Ide boomed, still looking ready to take on the world.

"That's true!" Kei leapt up from where she'd been crying in the corner, tears still streaming down her face. "These guys haven't done anything to deserve…to deserve _that_!" She pointed at the TV, where it appeared the news had resumed without much ado.

"We have to save ourselves!" a detective named Jaku raved. "We have to kill them and save ourselves!"

"Then quit the NPA!" Shinda suggested.

"You dumb bastard, that won't make any difference!"

A struggle began at the door of my conference room. Men shoved forward, trying to get to us, but only two or three could come in at a time, and Mogi, Ide, and the others sprang toward them, holding them back. I watched them fight back and forth, howling and cursing, panicking like kids on a playground.

Before I knew what was happening, my gun was in my hand, pointed at the ceiling. I fired two shots, and plaster rained down around me. The mob froze dead in their violence. Eyes stricken mad with terror rolled toward me, and mouths gaped.

I aimed my gun right at Raoki, finger lying gently against the trigger. "You fucking cowards," I growled. "Get out of my way."

"Yuh…you…" Raoki whined. "You wouldn't dare…"

I wouldn't be surprised if not a single coward in the lot of them had their gun with them. I marched forward, and Mogi and the others followed me. Ide shouldered up beside me, drawing his gun as well, and Shinda suddenly shoved his way into the mob, shouting, "Just let them go, goddammit! Just let them leave!" He pushed and fought his way through the crowd, and they slowly began to shuffle aside, leaving a narrow passage for us to slip in and out of them.

"You're going to get us all killed," Jaku sobbed. "All of us!"

I didn't know if I could help that, and I didn't know if it was wrong, I only knew what they wanted from us was too much to sacrifice.

Beyond the mob, another, larger crowd stood watching, and they must be the ones on the fence about it all still. I picked out Commissioner Oshima among the petrified expressions, merely another useless bystander.

"We're leaving," I told him, stopping briefly. "We're going to go catch the monster that killed Chiba."

Images of that horrific death splattered through my mind again, like the gory slasher flicks that used to keep me awake as a child. Only this one had been real. This one would never go away.

 _Chiba. I swear…I won't let it be for nothing._

Dumbfounded, the commissioner nodded, and I shouldered past him, dazed.

Every step of the way down to the lobby, I felt sure the mob would come after us or try to stop us, but everyone we passed stared like deer in the headlights, shocked and horrified by the mere sight of us—the four men who were going to get them killed.

In the lobby, it was quiet though. I turned to my team, reluctant to see their pallid and tear-stained faces. What had started out as a plucky, optimistic team looked apt to crumble at any moment, ruled by fear and horror now. "If anybody wants to leave this investigation," I said, trying to sound firm, "do it _now_."

Shinda stepped forward, eyes wide, chin quivering, but he stood at attention and spoke bravely. "I'm on your side, Captain. But I'll stay here so that you have at least one man in the station you can trust."

Touched, I turned to him. "You don't have to do that, Shinda. You're not—"

"I want to," he corrected, quietly, and gave a salute.

I returned the gesture, feebly, and then turned to Okoshi and the girls. "I understand if you three want out of this mess. Think it over. We'll contact you tomorrow to see what you've decided."

"No, Captain," Okoshi argued, straightening to attention. "I don't need a day to decide. For better or for worse, I'm in this case to the end."

Yoko agreed. "I lost my honor when I abandoned the Kira case, and I won't do the same thing now."

"We have to solve it," Kei whispered, face still splotchy from crying. "For Chiba."

Ide touched her shoulder, lightly, and only for a moment.

Their loyalty made my eyes sting, but it also renewed some of my courage. "Thanks…all of you. But you still have a day to decide."

Finally, I faced my friends, but I couldn't stand to look at them, knowing how I'd let them down. "You guys can get out too, if you want."

"You know we won't," Ide said solemnly.

"Aizawa," Mogi snapped, suddenly looking around. "Where's Matsuda?"

My mouth dropped open and I glanced through their faces again, but he wasn't anywhere to be seen. "Dammit!"

"Do you think they got him upstairs?" Kei asked worriedly.

"No, no…" I tried to think about the last time I'd seen him. "We would have noticed that."

Ide said, "I'm not sure, but I think he might have left before they even came to get us."

"He could be anywhere!"

"We'll check upstairs!" Yoko shouted, suddenly breaking back the way we'd come. Kei and Shinda raced after her.

"Mogi, Ide—outside," I barked, running for the doors.

Mogi threw the glass door open, and all three of us sprang into the sunlight. Very little time had passed, but I was surprised by the bright day that greeted us when the world suddenly seemed so dark. Shouting Matsuda's name, we turned in circles, trying to catch a glimpse of him.

"Shit!" I cursed, and then suddenly shoved my briefcase into Ide's arms. "Take that to your car—it's all the information we have on this case, so don't lose it!"

He nodded, stormy eyes threatening to pop.

"Mogi and I will look for Matsuda around here. We all meet back here in an hour." I jagged up the street, and Mogi took off the other way.

I shoved through crowds of people. Everyone was an enemy now. Anyone could have seen the news and decided that so-called Reaper freak was right.

Masuda though… Did he just wander away or did someone grab him? I tried calling his phone, but it just rang and rang. If he hadn't been taken, where would he go? Would he walk or drive?

Like with everything else, it all depended on how he felt—if he was in a daze, he'd just wander nearby. If he was outraged or felt cornered, he'd probably be driving.

Panting, I reached the corner, looking both directions, wildly, for any glimpse of him.

 _Not that dumb ass. Please, not that moron…_

It came to me, like a shockwave splitting through my mind, the day we met. _I'm sitting there at my table, reviewing all the information I was given on the Kira case, and Ide's right next to me, making sarcastic comments about L. This gangly kid walks up to us, grinning like it's just the best damn day he's ever lived, and I can tell he's close to fresh out of the academy, because his eyes still shine, and the world hasn't eviscerated the hope out of him yet, and he doesn't look a day over twenty. He's wearing his badge on the wrong side of his jacket. Ide stares at him and then looks at me, as if to ask, where'd this rookie come from? But the kid sticks his hand out and says, "Konnichiwa! I'm Touta Matsuda. Pleased to meet you," like he's an elementary student and it's his first day at a new school._

 _God…_

My lungs burned as I ran. _Not that fucking idiot. Please. I'd rather give up my right arm._

Suddenly, I saw him ahead of me, way off in the distance, shuffling through the crowd with his blazer draped over one shoulder. I sprinted after him, yelling his name, but he didn't stop or even glance back.

"Matsuda, wait!" I caught up to him faster than I'd expected, heaving as I trotted alongside him. The relief in me pounded like a storm.

I could still remember the first time I shook his hand.

" _Your badge is wrong, Private."_

I could almost laugh at the memory of how his eyes widened and his smile had dropped as he scrambled to fix his badge.

Some almost indecipherable difference had stolen over him since then, suddenly, though, not as if he'd aged—really, he barely looked any older than he had eight years ago, forever twenty-one—but the frown made his lips look thin, and his slanted brows turned his eyes dark, almost gray. His shirt flapped open, revealing the frowning logo of a BAPE tee, and his tie was missing; he wore jeans instead of slacks, which added a rough edge to his entire appearance, as if he'd thought not only to remove his suit, but to shed the skin of Touta Matsuda and become someone else entirely, then had decided against it halfway through.

"Matsuda," I said when I'd caught my breath. "What are you doing?"

"Leave me alone, Aizawa," he said quietly, and that moody, faded voice wasn't quite his either.

"Wait. Wait just a minute. Where are you going?"

"Nowhere, I just need to clear my head."

The dumb ass.

"Do you think that's a good idea when there's a psycho looking to kill you?"

It didn't matter. I wouldn't let him. I would not let that fucking maniac in the mask do to Matsuda what I let him do to Chiba.

A chill shot down my spine. _Chiba… Shit. I'm so sorry._

What could I have done differently to save him? Maybe if my episode at the vending machine hadn't left me so rattled, I could have gotten whatever information he'd found. Maybe they wouldn't have killed him then.

 _I'll spend the rest of my life wondering._

Matsuda murmured, "Maybe…I should die… Maybe that's for the best."

I nearly dropped my jaw. "Come on now. That's not like you. What about everything you said last night?"

"This is happening because I shot Light," he answered even more quietly. "I can't let this guy kill NPA officers over it."

"Just what do you think you can do though, Matsuda? Hey. Look, I know this is hard, but you can't do anything stupid."

"I…I don't know what to do," he agreed. "I'm not ready to die, and I don't know if I can sacrifice everything Iwant out of life to make sure everyone else keeps living." He turned a worried look to me. "Is that selfish?"

"No, of course not. You shouldn't have to."

"But it looks like it's either me or them… It can't be both." He thrust his hand through his hair. "The question is… Do I deserve to die for what I did to Light?"

"That's ridiculous," I scolded. "Don't even talk like that."

Still he went on like I hadn't spoken, expression blank. "Shooting him made me feel so horrible… When I'm alone, I can still hear the gunshots and see the blood. I hear him screaming, like a nightmare I can't wake up from."

"Matsuda!" I shouted suddenly, just to get his attention. "Stop talking that way. You didn't kill him!"

A couple people around us gave me questioning looks, but mostly went about their business. The world was like that

Expression decidedly disturbed, he looked at me for the first time, sounding like he was talking in his sleep. "I don't know what to do, Aizawa. I don't want to die."

"You don't have to do anything," I told him. "For all we know, this is some kind of bluff and he has no idea who shot Light. You need to snap out of this self-pity bullshit and come with me right now."

"It's not a bluff," he argued. "There's no way it's a bluff. Not after last night."

At last, I grabbed his arm, roughly. It hadn't been my intention to come out here and yell at him, but seeing him act this way, suggesting he should die over what happened to Light, made me feel angry and helpless, and it really scared me. "We're going to figure out who's behind this and stop them before anything happens to anyone! And this out-of-whack pessimistic thought process you've got going isn't helping! So quit your damn moping, and let's go!" I yanked his sleeve hard, jerking him around and marching him back up the street to the station. It was the only thing I could think to do.

Matsuda didn't bother fighting it, just shoved his hands in his pockets. "Where are we going?"

"To Light's apartment—everyone's meeting us there, and we're going to figure out how to handle this."

Matsuda paused to stare up at the police station. "I think we already know what we have to do, Aizawa."


	12. Chapter 12

Part Three

What doesn't destroy you

Leaves you broken instead

Got a hole in my soul

Growing deeper and deeper

And I can't take

One more moment of this silence

The loneliness is haunting me

And the weight of the world's getting harder to hold up.

 **Ide**

With slightly shaking hands, Aizawa stirred creamer into his coffee. Three days after the so-called Reaper's horrifying message, and it seemed like Aizawa had never stopped shaking completely.

It reminded me of the toll the Kira case had taken on Soichiro, how quickly his hair had grayed and how age had warped his face. Between the time I'd left the taskforce and then rejoined, Soichiro had looked like a completely different person, and even though this wasn't the Kira case, I worried that same thing would happen to my old friend.

Already, far behind us were the days of his youthful energy, when he used to jaunt through the city, ready to take on the world, or suddenly lose himself to excitement and throw me over his shoulder like a bag of dog chow. As he glared down at his food, I couldn't find the hopeful light that used to shine in his eyes, completely replaced by cynicism, or get over the horrible feeling that I was about to lose him forever.

There was no way I would let that happen.

Judging by what he'd done to Chiba, our perpetrator was sadistic and insane, thinking he was Kira's chosen disciple, but he was a mortal person, and we could catch him. It was just a matter of finding hard evidence, something we'd struggled to obtain in the Kira investigation.

As Aizawa sipped his coffee, I glanced quietly around the rundown diner. Everything seemed worn out, from the Formica tabletops to the aging waitress, and the jukebox only ever seemed to play old folk songs or nineties rock music. The food tended to be of mediocre quality, and the booth cushions were worn almost bare, hard as a bus station bench, but the front window gave us a good vantage point on the street, and we could see Light's apartment—our base now—across the way. There were two doors—one leading onto the main road, the other out into the alley, in case someone noticed us meeting here and tried to ambush us.

Mounted up in the corner, an old TV set played the news. Currently, the reporters were speculating about the abundance of deaths in the NPA, casually suggesting it could have to do with the broadcast they'd supposedly been forced to air on Friday morning, but they were taking it lightly.

"He's really doing it," Aizawa muttered. "He's really going to try to destroy the NPA."

I scoffed and ashed my cigarette. "What a crazy pipe dream."

"Four men are already dead."

On Friday, an NPA officer was shot and killed in an alleged bank robbery, and it could have been a coincidence, except that the message that KIRA LIVES was found painted on the wall in the bank safe.

Saturday, there was a similar incident, in which a pair of policemen died while apprehending a shoplifter. The same message was found not far from the crime.

Today, Sunday, we waited on pins and needles to see if more would be killed. It was starting out slowly, but if we didn't catch it quickly, all hell would break loose.

"This guy is going to try and bring down the NPA whether the four of us turn ourselves in or not," I muttered, trying to keep my voice down, even though we sat in a booth way in the back, away from the other patrons.

"That's no comfort," Aizawa snorted. "I've been thinking though…" He picked at his food, even though he didn't seem to have any intention of eating it. "He must have some kind of organization backing him."

"An entire syndicate of Kira fanatics," I agreed.

"There aren't enough of us…"

After the twenty-four hours Aizawa gave them, Okoshi, Yoko, and Kei all confirmed that they intended to see the investigation through to the end, and that made six of us, not including Matsuda. Aizawa took him off the investigation on Saturday.

That was a rough conversation. Hell, that was a rough night. All four of us had stayed in Light's apartment, lying low and discussing what we should do, trying to figure out what to tell the other half of our team, thoroughly discussing the possibility that all three of them would leave us to our fate. When Saturday came, I was relieved that the three of them wanted to keep helping us, so we'd texted them the address.

With everyone gathered, Aizawa had announced that we needed to focus on arresting Miyami and Rei, since we already knew they were most likely connected to the case, and when that was established, he'd said that six of us should be enough to at least locate and arrest them.

"Um, Cap," Kei had said, snapping her gum. "Maybe recount? There are seven of us."

"I wasn't counting Corporal Matsuda," Aizawa had explained coldly. "He won't be working with us on the case."

Even though he'd discussed it with me ahead of time, I had flinched at the blunt wording.

Murmuring, the others had stared dumbfounded at him, but for once, Matsuda had caught on right away, surging to his feet, half-shouting, "No way, Aizawa!"

"You're a liability," Aizawa had told him, refusing to look at him. "We can't be worrying about you all the time."

Insulted and enraged, Matsuda's breath had hitched, and his voice had rang with disbelief. "You can't push me into a corner and tell me to stay out of it like I'm a little kid!"

Mogi had argued too, "We're short on manpower as it is."

But Aizawa had stood his ground. "Look, I don't like it either, but the fact of the matter is this lunatic is trying to kill Matsuda, and it's our priority to prevent that. So, Matsuda…I'm sorry, but as of now you're suspended."

"You can't do that!" Matsuda had yelled.

Aizawa had been so strung out and stressed at that point, I'd known he was close to snapping, so I'd intervened, calmly. "He's right, Matsuda. The man we're looking for is off his rocker, and as best we can tell, he knows you're the one who shot Kira."

Another electrified murmur had traveled through the room, but we'd already agreed that as long as Okoshi and the others stayed on with us, they might as well know the truth.

I'd never forget the fascinated gleam in Yoko's eyes as she'd stared at him. "Matsu, _you_ shot Kira?"

Kei, ever the tactless one, had gone on to say, "Bad ass! I always figured it was Yagami-san or Aizawa, but you!"

Without pride or satisfaction, Matsuda had confirmed, "Yeah, it was me," and then he'd snarled, "I'm a valuable part of this investigation, Aizawa!"

His unprecedented confidence had shoved the whole group into a moment of silence, but when that moment passed, Aizawa's answer had been cold.

"You're a valuable part of the _NPA,"_ he'd said,"but in this investigation, you're a liability, and none of us want to drag you out of a dumpster."

Still they'd argued until Aizawa finally had to pull rank on him, and then Matsuda had reluctantly handed over his badge and gun.

"It's for the best," Aizawa had said in answer to the kid's defiant expression, but we all knew Matsuda wasn't convinced, and there had been plenty of times over the last three days when we could have used another guy.

Across the table, Aizawa rubbed his forehead with a trembling hand. He looked bad, I decided, and it aggravated me he was doing this with so little support.

"How're things on the home front?" I asked casually. I'd been holding off on that question ever since Saturday because I'd overheard him hissing into the phone at Eriko on Friday night, "I know I promised, babe, but you gotta understand…I just can't come home right now. I'll be there tomorrow… I _will_. I swear."

Sighing, Aizawa pushed his half-eaten plate away. "The way you'd expect."

Eriko was a patient woman. She was spirited too—she had to be to put up with him—and she'd always been supportive in the past, but this case was pulling him further and further away from her, and there was only so much either of them could take.

"You get to go home tonight," I said, trying to smile.

"I'm on the couch anyway," he answered darkly. "You try explaining to Eriko the idea of the six of us taking turns investigating all night or going home."

"I will," I offered. "If you want me to."

Aizawa laughed, bitterly. "Right. If she won't hear it from me, she's not gonna listen to you, Hideki."

"Hey, it's worth a shot, right? At least I can tell her you're definitely not cheating on her."

"She's probably starting to think I'm cheating on her with _you_ ," he sniffed.

I rolled my eyes. "Your sense of humor still needs work. Eh. Maybe another twenty years…"

He looked past me, out into the street. "I see them. Let's go."

Gesturing to his plate, I pointed out, "You didn't eat much."

"You didn't eat at all."

I mashed out my cigarette while he paid the bill, and I watched his back as we left the building. Reaper knew too much. If he sniped our lead investigator from across the street…

Well, we'd be able to do it still. Maybe not as passionately; but I promised myself that if something happened to Shuichi Aizawa, I'd spend every last second of my life finding the bastard responsible and making sure he got his. Just like I'd promised myself that if that prick Ryo so much as nicked him, I was going to knock all his teeth out. It's funny what knowing a guy for twenty years will do to you.

Aizawa slipped his sunglasses over his eyes and we crossed the street to where Yoko and Mogi waited in their cruiser. Together, they made an unnerving pair, hardly speaking, watching everything around them like they were taking pictures with their eyes.

"So what are we working with?" Yoko asked when we reached them.

Aizawa leaned down to talk to them through the cruiser window. "No sign of Rei or Miyami. I'm starting to think they might have dropped off the face of the earth."

"Or left the country," she suggested. "According to the tape Matsuda gave us, Rei's done that in the past."

Mogi cleared his throat. "Some men from the station contacted me. It seems like there are a few more who want to help us."

"Who are they?"

Mogi rattled off five names—three of them wanted to stay at the station and help us from there when they could, but two were actually brave enough to actively help in the investigation.

"Those two are watching the Yagami house right now," Mogi told him. "They're fresh for a stakeout."

"Good. At least if anybody strikes there it'll probably mean a connection to Rei."

"Captain Okoshi says he has some connections also," Yoko said. "He told me he was going to the station today to test the waters."

"If we're lucky," I grumbled, "we'll be able to show our faces in there again some day." I nudged Aizawa. "Right, Chief?"

He just shook his head. This case that was supposed to have secured the position of chief for him seemed to be taking him further from it, and between that and the issues with Eriko, his whole life hung in the balance.

Mogi passed him a folded up piece of paper. "These are some of our allies at the station right now. It isn't very long, but the men I talked with today made it sound like a lot of detectives support us secretly."

"Good job." Aizawa reviewed the list before passing it to me. "You two are thorough."

"Nothing gets past us," Yoko agreed coolly.

I read down the list. There were a few names I recognized, people I hadn't wanted to believe would betray us, and there were a few I didn't know as well—starry-eyed rookies too noble to think of betraying comrades.

"Nobody's died yet today," Yoko commented, watching the slow setting of the sun. "We should all be careful."

"I'm going home," Aizawa told us firmly, as if he expected someone to argue. "If anybody tries to stop me—terrorist or otherwise—I'll kill 'em."

I slammed him on the back. "Let me know if you need back up."

"We're out to find, Rei," Yoko announced, starting the car. "But I think Kei and Okoshi will have better luck digging up Miyami."

"Somebody please just have good news tomorrow," Aizawa grumbled.

"That'll be me," I decided. "I'm on babysitting duty."

"Any good news. I'll take it."

"We'll try," Yoko told him, and then she peeled away.

It wasn't smart for any of us to be alone for a long time, so I waited with Aizawa until he'd gotten a cab, and then I headed up into the apartment.

We had been able to make an arrangement with the landlord, though that was coming out of our own pockets for now. Depending on how long this case dragged on we might be forced to abandon it at some point. As soon as anyone noticed we were using it, it would no longer be safe, so I made sure to watch myself as I took the elevator.

Walking into the dim unit, I called out, "I'm ho-ome," just to test the waters of his mood.

As usual, he had all the curtains drawn, the sun blazing through their fabric giving the room a red cast, and he lay back on the couch, TV going, eyes fixed on his phone. "Yeah, yeah," he muttered, barely looking up at me. In addition to a white NPA t-shirt, he wore blue jeans and a consistently annoyed frown.

"What's that? No welcome back, Taniki-tan?"

"Welcome back, Ide," he snorted, in a voice vastly altered from his usual enthusiasm and politeness.

"Man, you sure are pouty about all this," I complained, stripping off my jacket to drape it over the couch next to his coat, some ridiculously expensive Wacko Maria article he'd insisted on having with him.

Still not really looking at me, Matsuda waved his hand at the room around him. "I wonder why."

Seeing how we'd removed a lot of the personal items from the living room, it looked empty, and, instead, a variety of Matsuda's belongings we'd managed to bring from his apartment lay strewn about. His NPA duffle stuffed into the corner, clothes and toiletries spilling out of it, lent the room a hotel atmosphere. Dismal, really. Just a place of broken hopes and bittersweet memories.

"I get it." I set my gun on the end table. "I'm just saying, you're normally like a puppy dog—somebody you know walks through that door, and you gotta hump his leg."

At last, Matsuda shot a glare at me. I think he intended it to be caustic—a warning even—but after six years of putting up with the little dork, I was less than intimidated. Instead, I chuckled and lit a cigarette. "What, I can't even play around with you anymore? All because you're ticked at Aizawa?"

The scowl darkened as he attempted to prove he _could_ be intimidating when he wanted to be, but the only time Matsuda had looked even remotely scary to me was when he'd shot Kira. Other than that, cheerful or mad, he was always just weird, little Matsu.

"C'mon." I leaned over the couch to nudge his shoulder. "Don't be so serious—you're gonna wreck your good looks."

Matsuda shoved my hand away, turning back to his phone, and from the way he bit his tongue between his front teeth, I thought he'd come dangerously close to telling me to fuck off.

"Anyway." I shrugged, getting my phone out. "Let's check in with the boss. Let him know you're safe and sound."

It wasn't like him to be sarcastic, but I thought I heard him grumble, "By all means."

"You need to watch your tone, Corporal," I told him, still half-teasing, but I was so used to his optimism and youthful energy, being around him when he was like this was really uncomfortable, and I kept expecting him to snap at me without warning. "I can probably come up for some chores for you to do. All that TV will rot your brain anyway."

Muttering more sarcastic shit under his breath, he leaned forward to get a gulp from his beer. Meanwhile, the phone rang only once, and then Aizawa's voice answered with a brisk, "Is he still there?"

I didn't know where exactly he expected Matsuda to go without his gun or badge, especially since we had to assume his place was being watched, but leaving the kid home alone for even as little as ten minutes made him anxious.

"See for yourself," I said, tossing the phone to Matsuda, who glared daggers at me, as if I'd thrown him an active grenade.

Sighing, he answered, "I'm still here."

Aizawa must not have had much else to say. I heard his voice muttering indistinguishably, even as I went into the kitchen to grab a beer, and then Matsuda snorted, "Yeah. Fine," and hung up.

Setting the phone aside, he heaved himself off the couch to follow me to the kitchen, the hilarious frown on his face more annoyed than ever. "Still here," he said, snagging a beer and viciously twisting the cap off. "Still here, still here. You guys might as well have put me in protective custody."

"We talked about it," I told him dryly. "We thought you'd be more comfortable here."

"Oh, that's true." He gave me a dark smile. "But having one of you always _hanging out_ here with me means two less people working the investigation."

"Believe me, if you figured that out, Aizawa knows it too."

"Right, he's so smart." Taking a huge swig of beer, he returned to the couch, where a small collection of empty bottles was starting on the floor. If he kept drinking at that rate, in a few hours, I'd be hanging out with drunk Matsuda, and as funny as that could be, it might also provoke a darker side of him, the way it had the night we celebrated the end of the Kira case.

Come to think of it, that had been a bad idea. We should have known it would end with us dragging him, blasted out of his mind and babbling about Light, up to his apartment.

Just now, I didn't think I had enough clout with him to try and curb his drinking, so I simply sat in the armchair, and asked, "So. How was your day?"

With a sardonic laugh, he flopped back. "Let's see. Nobody's died yet today. That's good news. But on the other hand, _I'm still here._ "

"Well, I don't think that's going to change any time soon." I took a sip of beer. It was some American import Kei bought, probably expensive as hell, but it was the only thing she'd drink, and I was going to really get a kick out of it when she yelled at me for taking one. I liked the way her eyes smoldered and her cheeks seemed to puff out when she was genuinely angry.

"What's that mean?" Matsuda lifted his head to look at me. "You guys aren't getting anywhere?"

Reproachfully, I reminded him, "You know I can't discuss it with you."

Snorting, he lay back to nurse his beer.

In the three days he'd been here, all he'd done was watch brain-numbing amounts of bad TV, play on his phone, and occasionally bounce ideas off whoever was around, whether or not we responded. I'd even seen him smoke a cigarette or two. Outside of being bored and frustrated, though, he'd at least given up on trying to convince us to let him back on the case.

"You know," he said casually, "I've been thinking. If this Reaper guy knows who _I_ am, doesn't he probably know who the three of _you_ are too?"

"He probably does," I allowed.

"Then the three of you are at just as much risk as I am."

"That's a big leap." I lit a cigarette and downed some more beer. "Obviously finding out who was there the day Kira got caught was never the trick. The trick was figuring out which one of us shot him."

Frankly, I couldn't understand how he'd uncovered that information without someone telling him, but it was too much to hope that he'd simply guessed and gotten it right, and that meant we might have a traitor in our midst.

"He's still planning to kill the three of you to get to me, though, right?"

"He's welcome to try," I snorted. "The point is, letting you investigate isn't worth risking your life over."

Matsuda scowled. "You guys make it sound like if I set one foot outside this apartment I'll just die instantly. Spontaneously combust or something."

"No. We're just not sure what you'll _do_ , Matsuda."

Again, he raised his head to pass me a questioning look. "What's that supposed to mean? I want to investigate."

" _I want to investigate,_ " I mimicked his innocent tone. "Sure, okay. But those who fight and run away live to fight another day, and it's not like you got kicked off the NPA."

Grumbling, "that rhymes," he looked away again.

Aizawa had told me a little about Matsuda's unexpectedly philosophical speculations concerning whether he deserved to live or die, and I suspected that had a lot to do with the decision to keep him off the case. Possibly, if we let Matsuda investigate with us, we'd be able to make sure nothing happened to him. So that wasn't the scary part then. No. The scary part was that Matsuda might just decide his life wasn't worth all this bloodshed.

On the TV, the regular programming suddenly stopped for a breaking news flash. "This just in," the reporter read. "Three officers of the NPA have been gunned down while investigating a routine domestic disturbance call."

Matsuda sat up to see better, and the reporters, of course, went through the routine of reminding everyone that this all had to do with the message of Kira's disciple the Reaper inasmuch as the message itself had been found at the scene of the crime.

"Wow," Matsuda breathed in a hushed tone. "He's really doing it, isn't he? He's going to kill more and more police officers every day until he gets what he wants."

"Looks like it," I agreed, but reluctantly. Getting shot on a domestic disturbance call… More and more it looked like there really was a massive crime syndicate behind these killings.

"I've been thinking. They'd have to be one-hundred-percent loyal too, right? Otherwise someone might start leaking information to the cops. Then again…if you hate the cops so much you wanna kill them you're probably not gonna tell them anything."

In the middle of his brilliant theorizing, the female anchor was handed a paper from off the screen. Taking a moment to read it, she casually announced that two more officers had been killed.

I leaned forward, clenching my beer tightly.

"Wait," Matsuda said, "that's five guys in one day—the quota was already filled."

We listened for the next couple of minutes as the reporter explained that the man who'd shot the cops had been apprehended as he was running from the scene, and that his weapon of choice had been a licensed hunting rifle. She was still speculating over what that might mean in accordance with the Reaper when I got a call from Aizawa.

"Ide, are you watching the news?" his voice sounded tight with distress.

"Yeah, but what does it mean?"

Matsuda looked up at me. "Is that Aizawa?" he hissed.

I just nodded.

Instead of answering me, Aizawa asked, "Is Matsuda in the room with you?"

With a quick glance at Matsuda, I excused myself to the kitchen. "Not anymore."

"I don't want him to overhear." He paused a moment and drew a deep breath before whispering, "Those two new deaths… I don't think they have anything to do with the Reaper. I got a call from the men who arrested the shooter—they sympathize with us, supposedly—I'm going to go have a word with them."

"Don't you think you should go home? Someone else can do that."

"Who?" he demanded. "I don't dare call anyone off the investigation to do it for me. Anyway, the important thing is, I think the shooter was just an everyday citizen. I don't have any proof at this point, but apparently the message wasn't left the way it normally is."

"You're probably right," I agreed. "I heard on the news that this guy used a legal hunting rifle, nothing like the automatic weapons the other officers were shot with. Why though?"

"The Reaper talked about having everyone stand together against the NPA."

"Then you think random Kira fanatics might take the opportunity to kill off cops?" I said the words calmly and quietly, but my stomach felt twisted.

"If we're lucky, this was just an isolated incident, but if other people decide to go after the NPA because they think they can get away with it…"

"That'll put us in a real bind," I finished quietly.

"Not only that," he grumbled. "It'll pressure us to give into this guy's sick, little game."

And that meant the rest of the NPA would be even more likely to turn against us.

Guns or no guns, there were plenty of ways to kill.

"Eight officers have died in three days," Aizawa went on. "If things continue this way, we might even lose the allies we have."

"I wouldn't blame them for giving up," I muttered, still trying to keep my voice low. "This is a messed up situation."

"Yeah." He sounded more exhausted than ever. "We really need a good lead. Just one would do."

"There must be something. We'll keep looking."

"You just stay where you are for now. We've got to stick with our original plan until we learn more."

"All right. You be careful out there."

Slowly, I put my phone away, head spinning.

Eight officers in three days… I still couldn't believe the Reaper would be able to destroy the NPA altogether, but if normal citizens started to side with him, he might not even need to. Everyone was going to be angry over this. _Hell_. I felt angry. Those cops were just doing their jobs, following orders. I probably even knew them.

"Aizawa says hey," I muttered, going back into the living room, but Matsuda was gone, the bathroom door was closed, and I heard the water running. Heavily, I sat down on the couch and lit another cigarette. If I didn't have to stay here with Matsuda, I could go myself and talk to the officers who caught today's shooter, and Aizawa could go home to his family.

If only we _could_ put him in protective custody, but if we did, we might as well announce to the entire NPA that he was the man Reaper was after.

As I waited for him to come back, I tried to decide what to say to him. I couldn't exactly hide what happened, and eventually he'd draw his own conclusions, but he definitely didn't need to know that average citizens might turn against us on top of everything else.

Unable to stomach any more news, I switched channels and wound up watching several minutes of a soap opera before turning to a game show. I just needed to get my mind off this disaster.

When a few minutes had passed, I went over and knocked on the bathroom door. "Hey, I'm thinking about ordering some food. Any input?"

No response came, just that sound of the faucet going full blast.

"Matsuda, what the hell's taking you so long?"

Still nothing.

Unnerved, I scanned the apartment for any sign of things being out of place and immediately noticed my gun had gone missing from where I'd set it earlier.

"Hey, Matsuda? Did you take my gun?"

He still didn't answer, and my heart rate was starting to pick up a little. I'd locked the door when I came into the apartment. I hadn't searched the rooms though. I shouldn't have had to.

Just to be sure, I went over and checked that front door was locked. While I was there, I realized his shoes were missing also.

Heart lurching, I turned to the couch, realizing now that the jacket he'd just _had_ to have was gone now also.

Even Matsuda wasn't so rude that he'd wear his shoes inside… Could he have left the apartment without my noticing? No. That didn't seem possible.

Touching my holster just to make sure my gun was really gone, I sprang back to the bathroom door and banged on it. "Matsuda, if you're in there, you better answer me!"

He didn't, so I flung it open.

It was empty, but the window had been thrust up.

With a curse, I ran over to stick my head through, realizing immediately that his shoulders wouldn't fit through the narrow opening. Besides, we were ten stories up.

"Shit!" I turned just in time to see him standing in the doorway, a frighteningly serious expression on his face, my gun at his side.

I started forward. "Don't you dare—"

He slammed the door in my face, and I heard it lock.

"Matsuda! Hey!" I threw myself against it, pounding out of pure frustration. "Let me out of here right now!"

"Sorry, Ide," he said stiffly. "I'm not gonna sit here and do nothing. Aizawa should have known that."

I felt so stupid in that moment I could barely answer. Of course he hadn't complained or made any attempt to escape. He'd been waiting for one of us to let our guard down and leave our gun unattended, and _I_ was the idiot this time.

"Don't," I snapped. "Whatever you're planning to do, forget about it."

Voice clouded with frustration, he answered, "Aizawa wouldn't take _you_ off the investigation just because someone might be out to get you, or Mogi. No one would even bother _trying_ to take Aizawa off it. So it's just me, for some reason. Right?"

"Hey, it makes sense to be frustrated." I threw my cigarette into the toilet. "But that doesn't mean you get to take matters into your own hands."

"I don't have time to argue with you," he muttered, and I heard him turn to go.

"Matsuda!" I pressed against the door. "Whatever you do, just don't hand yourself over to that psycho. Please."

"Don't worry, Ide," he said quieter than ever. "I won't if I don't have to."

"Matsuda—"

"See you later."

His footsteps drummed back across the floor, and the front door opened and then closed.

"Shit, shit, shit." I fumbled with my phone, hoping that if I got a hold of someone right away they could pick him up before he got far.

Aizawa answered immediately. "What now? More bad news?"

"You…you could say that…" Actually, this might be the worst news yet. "I lost him."

 **Matsuda**

It was a long walk to Chiyoda, but there were a lot of long walks ahead of me now, since taking the train was a bad idea and driving my own car was out of the question. I knew my friends would be looking for me; knowing them, they'd expect to find me wandering, lost, in Light's old neighborhood with the safety off on Ide's gun.

But not this time.

Ever since Aizawa suspended me, I'd been waiting for this chance and thinking about what I would do if I got it, telling myself that the moment someone got careless with their gun, I had to take the opportunity. There was no guarantee another would come, and anything was better than hiding.

Besides, accidentally or not, I'd gotten close to both Miyami and Rei while I was investigating with Sayu, and I was convinced that if I just had a chance to go back out and start over I'd be able to come up with _something_.

Even being the one the Reaper was after could give me an edge, if he thought I was being careless.

When I'd gotten far enough that it seemed unlikely one of the others would come around the corner and spot me, I went into a hole-in-the-wall convenience store and bought a pair of sunglasses and a cheap cell phone so I could call Sayu.

"You got a new number?" she asked when she heard my voice.

"Yep." Despite my frustration, I tried to sound cheerful. "I got a new phone, actually."

"Again? I thought you just got a new phone last week."

"Oh… Yeah, but I didn't like it. This one's way better. I'll show it to you."

After the big deal I'd made over my Nexus, she definitely had cause to be skeptical, but she just paused and then asked, "Are you okay? It's been a while since I heard from you."

A stranger passed me a little closely, and I couldn't help staring at them. "Mmhm, I'm fine."

"I've been worried about you."

After spending the last three days like a prisoner just because Aizawa and the others were worried, I didn't feel super appreciative of the concern. "I can take care of myself, believe it or not," I muttered.

Stunned, Sayu paused and then said, "Yeah, but…the drive by…" like I'd forgotten about my near death experience.

That reminded me that she was in danger too, and I tried to lighten my tone. "I've been busy, that's all."

"I heard about what happened on Friday," she explained in a quiet voice. "I missed the video, though."

I wished _I_ had missed that video. The images of the Reaper torturing and murdering Chiba had joined the ghosts that already haunted my dreams, and I could hardly stand to think about it. That happened because of me.

"Friday was your deadline for the case, right? So all of that is connected to the investigation you guys are working on."

She was smart. I had to be careful with what I said to her from now on.

"Don't worry, Sayu," I insisted. "It's all under control."

Judging by her silence, she didn't really believe that either. After a moment, she asked, "The police are watching my house, aren't they?"

Again, I reminded myself that I had to try and seem easygoing, so I forced a smile. "It's just a precaution, Sayu. No big deal." I didn't feel easygoing or cheerful—I felt furious and desperate.

She sighed, "Well, I guess I can't help you very much anymore."

"Nah, you can still help." I paused on the corner to wait to cross the road, scanning the area. Through my shades, everything seemed reddish, and the streets were strangely lonely for this time of day, with only a few loners straggling along the sidewalks. My light changed, and I kept moving. "Hey, remember how you told me that Atashi Rei called you right before the… Um…when you were waiting for him outside the café?"

"About that," Sayu said. "Shouldn't I tell someone?"

"That's okay. I already filled Aizawa in. He said I should get that number from you."

Sayu asked in a skeptical tone, "Will that help? I mean…it's the same number I got off the internet."

Even so, I didn't have internet access now. "Yeah, we just need it for our records."

She paused for so long, I wondered if she believed me. I'd never been a good liar.

"Please, Sayu?"

"Okay," she agreed at last. "I'll text it to you."

"That'd be great. Hey, I have to let you go now, but I'll call you again soon to see how you're doing."

"Okay," she agreed, still sounding suspicious. "Take care of yourself."

"I will."

Hanging up the phone, I paused outside a laundromat to wait a few moments for her text to come through.

 _Hope this helps. Plz call l8tr._

A sad smile tugged at my mouth as I answered, _Thnx. Don't worry about me._ I even sent a smiley face, as if that would reassure her.

One eye open for danger, I slipped down a narrow alley, sloshing through puddles as I dialed the number Sayu had just sent me, each ring making my heart beat faster.

Finally, the butler Aizawa and I had met answered and told me right away that the master wasn't available, but I was past the mood for playing or begging, so I told him to tell Rei that Taro Matsui was calling about the fake ID he'd made.

I figured that would get his attention, but I couldn't even finish the instructions before the man hung up on me, and I paused where I was to stare at the phone in disbelief. Even as I was watching the screen, a call came in from a blocked number, and when I answered, the same voice Sayu had gotten on tape at the hotel snarled, "Who the hell is this?"

On a good day, I couldn't outwit him, and I was feeling less than perfect, so it was pointless to lie. Honesty had always worked better for me anyway, so I kept it short and told him exactly who I was and what I wanted. He seemed pretty surprised; who could blame him? He'd obviously tried to have me killed a few days ago, and now here I was asking him to meet me in person and promising to come alone.

"I don't want to arrest you, Rei-san," I told him. "In fact, I think I can keep you from being arrested completely."

His voice mirrored Sayu's incredulity from earlier. "If you have the power to arrest me, why don't you just do it? You obviously know where I am right now."

For all I knew, he'd called on a cell phone from the other side of the world, but I assured him I'd rather meet in person and talk it over. Reluctantly, he agreed, promising to come alone. That part was probably a lie, but it was good enough for now, so I hung up.

As I walked, it struck me how dumb this was, arranging to meet a criminal who wanted me dead without even ordering back up. I thought about contacting Aizawa to tell him about the meet, but on the off-chance Rei came alone and listened to what I had to say, I might be able to get the information we needed; no matter what the guys would think of my plan, I was less than twenty-four hours away from meeting Atashi Rei in person.

As the sun sank, I checked into a cheap motel and paid with cash. Normally, I didn't carry cash, but since I'd had to cancel my cards after losing my wallet, I had enough to rent a room for a few nights anyway, and it might be for the best. Aizawa and the others could probably track me through my credit card.

I wished I could go home. I felt dog tired, and it seemed like weeks since I'd been in my apartment already, and part of me doubted I'd ever get to go back there.

That was the least of my worries, I told myself as I crawled into bed, still wearing my jeans and clutching Ide's pistol in one hand. NPA officers were getting killed every day, the body count was rising, and no matter what Aizawa said, that _was_ on me.

After all, there had to have be another way to resolve the case without me shooting the hell out of Light.

His hysterical voice clattered in my head as I struggled to fall asleep. _…all those earnest people…who fight for justice, they always lose. Do you want a world where people like him are made to be fools?"_

 _Maybe you were right, Light. I'm trying so hard, but I'm the one being made a fool of this time._


	13. Chapter 13

**Aizawa**

* * *

It felt like I spent most of my time pacing these days. I circled around and around the living room in Light's apartment while the others watched me, and my thumb was starting to hurt from biting at it so much. Between pacing and clue-hunting, we were losing the battle.

When Ide called to tell me he lost Matsuda, my first instinct was to say "fuck Matsuda, come back me up," but if I was just going to let Matsuda go off and get killed, I may as well have handed him over to the Reaper a long time ago and hoped it would satisfy him, and that had never been an option, so looking the other way while he wandered around by himself wasn't either. Looking out for our own was the crux of this case.

Besides, Matsuda could make it even harder for us to collect evidence.

So I had to put off the interview I was on my way to conduct, delay going home—again—and call everyone back to Light's apartment for yet another emergency meeting, but even there, I just wasn't sure what I should do in light of the new crisis.

I stopped pacing suddenly and looked at Ide, who was making a point to stare right at me, as if to say, "be mad at me if you want."

"He must have overheard us," I decided suddenly.

"I was careful, Shuichi," he argued, and that tone too told me that he wasn't planning to take any heat for this mistake.

Still, I was sure, mostly because of something Matsuda said to me yesterday when we were here alone together.

From the moment I'd walked through the door, tension had been thick in the air, no matter what I said, all I'd gotten in reply were inarticulate answers, so I'd sat at the desk, reviewing notes and trying to stay awake, while he lounged on the couch, playing with his phone and looking at magazines with the TV going. Even when the silence had gotten to be too much and I'd told him I understood his frustration but I was just trying to help him, he'd simply sunk deeper into the couch and ignored me.

Keeping him off the investigation made me angry also. After the talk Mogi and I had had just the night before, I didn't _want_ to waste Matsuda's skills, but at least I could understand that protecting him was more important than any of that, and he didn't seem to get that everything I'd been through lately would be a complete waste of time if something happened to him.

The interrogation, for example, would have been three times easier to endure if Matsuda hadn't shot Light, and, without a doubt, the hardest part had been going home after twelve or more hours of questioning, only to toss and turn, unable to sleep, going over and over what I'd said in that room, worrying something had slipped out that might implicate him, knowing full-well that if that information fell into the wrong hands, he'd suffer the consequences.

Anyway, I wished Matsuda could at least try to see it my way.

Eventually, Okoshi had radioed in to report yet another failure in the case, and then, finally, in a somewhat loud, forcibly casual tone, Matsuda had asked, "Not getting too far on the case, huh?"

It had annoyed the hell out of me, but in a way, it was a game, and whoever snapped at the other first would lose. I'd refused to so much as look up from my paperwork, allowing, calmly, "Not very quickly at least."

"I've been thinking, Aizawa," he'd went on in that nonchalant voice. "I got a lot further on my own than you're getting with a whole team of investigators behind you."

"You were also in a car bombing, a fist fight, and a drive-by-shooting," I'd returned stonily.

"Oh, yeah, I know. I'm not asking you to let me help." Barely concealing his own agitation, he'd flashed me a fake smile. "I'm just saying, maybe you're doing this case all wrong."

"Yeah, what can I say? We can't _all_ wander around like aimless idiots, breaking and entering and dropping our identification."

Matsuda had laughed, but with a sarcastic flavor to it I wasn't used to. " _No_. But you can't deny that people aren't taking cops too seriously right now. Maybe—"

"Don't even go there. It's a complicated case, and it's gonna take some time to put all the pieces together, but we _are_ making progress, and leaving our badges at home and walking around like tourists from a fishing village won't speed up the process."

Finally, Matsuda had sat up, his mouth set in that way that let me know he was really thinking hard. "Yeah, maybe I just don't get it. But Aizawa, the longer this case takes, the more people will die."

It was just like Matsuda to blurt out what everyone else was thinking with no regard to propriety, and I knew the idea of innocent people dying bothered him more than anything else. Today, as far as I knew, a random citizen had killed two cops, and that must have been the last straw for him.

Taking his phone out of my pocket, I turned it over a couple times in my hand. Sentimental, maybe, but the stupid thing suddenly felt like an extension of himself he'd left behind on purpose, just so I'd have to walk into this room, see it sitting there, and know he was out of reach. Swiping my thumb across the screen revealed the picture he'd taken with Sayu the other day, and I stared at it a long time, unable to get over how broken they both looked, even past the smiles.

 _If something happens to you, I don't know how I'll be able to forgive myself._

I should have known he would do this. There had always been that unexpected streak of self-sacrifice in him, and I'd seen him do things that I might even call heroic, if they weren't just so damn stupid, things like offering his name to Mello as the new L so Soichiro didn't have to choose between his children or volunteering to make the eye deal with Ryuuk. I should have known he _couldn't_ just sit here and hide out while the rest of us scrambled to solve the case, pushing ourselves to the breaking point. No. I _had_ known. He'd been way too easygoing about the fact that we'd more or less arrested him, not bothering to argue with me directly, acting almost cheerful when the others were around. Now I realized he'd just been biding his time.

"I think finding him should be our top priority," Mogi said, drawing me out of my thoughts.

Slowly, I slipped his phone into my pocket again, feeling like it was the only piece of him I had left.

"Letting him wander around like Sherlock Holmes is out of the question," I agreed. "We'll have to break into teams. Some of us will work on the case while the others look for Matsuda, and we'll rotate."

As for me, I wasn't sure where I should be. I _wanted_ to find Matsuda and bust him over the head for being so stupid, but I belonged on the investigation.

"Captain, I'm sorry," Yoko challenged suddenly, "but with a cop killer on the loose, I hardly think our priority should be to waste time looking for a rookie."

I had to try very, very hard not to lose my temper with her, and while I was catching my breath, Mogi looked sternly at her and said, "Corporal Matsuda's no rookie."

"He's no expert either," Ide agreed. "But he's not just some stupid kid. He _is_ a capable officer."

"Use your head, Sergeant," I added, seething. "There's a cop killer on the loose, and I want to _waste_ time finding an officer who's gone missing."

"All I mean is," she sniffed, "he's obviously annoyed you wouldn't let him investigate. Let him look around a while—he might find something."

Angrier than ever to hear her insinuate this was my fault, I snapped, "This murderer specifically wants to kill Matsuda. At the moment, we have no idea what he's doing or if he's okay—he'll be a missing person in a few hours. As much as I'd rather not _waste manpower_ looking for some _dumb rookie_ , it is our priority to find him before he gets himself killed, and if anyone has a problem with that, they don't have to help."

Yoko's normally serene face reddened slightly, and then she apologized under her breath. "But," she added, "if the three of you really think he's such a capable officer, you're really not giving him much credit, keeping him off the investigation completely."

Furtively, Ide and Mogi exchanged a glance, and then looked at me.

She went on, "You didn't want him on the streets—we all understand that—but you could have given him a job to do that didn't require being in harm's way, and then we wouldn't have to…exert any effort on finding him when we're already working around the clock to solve this case."

I frowned at her. "Are you telling me how to run this investigation, Sergeant?"

She paused. "No, Captain. I'm just suggesting that when we find Matsuda, maybe instead of locking him up and treating him like a liability, he'd be useful in some other capacity."

"That's my decision," I reminded her, sharply. "Not anyone else's."

"Of course, Captain," she agreed, quietly, and sat back in her chair, gaze cast to the floor.

In turn, I looked around at the rest of them. "Anybody else have a reason we _shouldn't_ look for Matsuda?"

Shaking their heads, everyone muttered a no, and then I reassigned them to new duties and dismissed them, but on the way down to the cruiser, I couldn't shake what Yoko had said.

Right behind me, Ide laughed under his breath.

"What's so funny?" I glared back at him.

"Oh, it's just that you're normally the one who treats Matsuda like a dumb rookie anyway."

The words stung, and I thought of what Mogi had said. "It's one thing to give your little brother a hard time," I mumbled finally, "you don't let just anybody do it."

"Sure, but Matsuda isn't your brother."

"I'm just saying the same principles apply."

"Yeah, I know," he sighed, and the smile fell off his face, revealing genuine worry. "Strange, isn't it? I barely knew Matsuda before the Kira case started."

Those days were so fuzzy, they seemed hardly to be real, but I remembered Matsuda's reputation as a ditz, the rumors that he'd only graduated the academy because he had some special connection to Chief Yagami, and the sneers about his being destined for failure. I remembered seeing him around from time to time, though he'd spent a lot of those early years working graveyard shifts at the station, mostly filing paperwork and keeping fresh coffee in the pot for all the serious detectives. Distinctly, I recalled that, for all the trash talk and low expectations, he'd always been cheerful, and he'd always greeted me, when we did happen to pass one another, with a big smile.

"I didn't really either…" I murmured, thinking there were levels to him I'd never expected to stumble upon, and how far he had come, seemingly without my noticing, from the blithe rookie to the man who'd shot Kira. I couldn't help wondering if that was a sacrifice he'd regret making.

Ide and I stood beside the cruiser a moment, worrying about Matsuda, and he lit a cigarette. It was a strangely comfortable feeling being there together in the midst of a crisis, and after all this time, he was still my anchor.

"The Kira investigation wasn't his _first_ case, was it?" he asked after taking a few drags.

"Matsuda? No. He had a couple before that." Again, I pictured the gangly kid who'd come up to us, wearing his badge on the wrong side, grinning like a dope, and I winced to think of him disappearing forever.

Nodding, Ide looked up into the evening sky. "What makes someone like Matsuda want to be a detective in the first place?"

A bit surprised, I turned to him. "I thought you knew."

Ide arched his brow. "Why would I know?"

It made me pause, hesitant to point out that I'd overheard Matsuda confide a lot of personal things in Ide over the years, probably because he was a little easier to talk to than me and would actually reply, unlike Mogi. Any time I'd mentioned how the two of them seemed to be buddies, though, Hideki had to be obnoxious about it, sometimes sneering, " _don't tell me you're jealous,"_ sometimes muttering, _"he's an idiot, we're not friends,"_ and sometimes simply grumbling, _"mind your own business, Shuichi,"_ depending on his mood.

Carefully, I admitted, "I just assumed he told you at some point."

"No, of course not." he snorted, but then added, softer, with a note of regret, "I never asked…"

Neither had I. Just a few years ago, I couldn't have cared less why Matsuda did anything just so long as he always obeyed, and now I'd give anything to know the answer. I'd give nearly anything to be able to call him up and chat with him all about his farfetched hopes and childish dreams, and I reached into my pocket to touch his phone, just to remind myself how impossible that had become.

Sighing, I looked up and down the street, half hoping I'd see some sign of him, that he'd come to his senses without doing anything too stupid. "I should give him more credit."

Ide shrugged. "It's not your job to give him credit—this _isn't_ a family."

"No, but maybe Yoko and Mogi are right. I mismanaged him, and that's why he's doing this."

"Hey." He put a hand on my shoulder, giving me a grave look. "Matsuda sucks at deskwork. He wasn't going to be satisfied until he was out on the streets with the rest of us."

"If I'd known he was gonna do this, I would have kept him with you and me, and he'd be in the back of this cruiser right now."

"He's hard to predict," Ide said dismissively. "Lately it's worse than ever, so it's not your fault you couldn't guess what he was going to do. If we have to blame someone, it might as well be me—I was careless."

"No. He could have done this when any one of us was with him. It just happened to be you."

Unconvinced, Ide snorted, "I guess we'll know better next time."

Again, I thought back to the first time I'd met the kid.

 _He sat down next to me, still fixing his badge, grinning from ear to ear. "Isn't this exciting? We get to work with L!"_

 _"Exciting," I'd huffed. "Right. Don't get too excited—people are dying."_

 _The smile had dropped from his face. "Oh. Right… Sorry, it's just my first big… Well, I mean, I'm just proud to be a part of it. We're gonna catch this guy!" He'd given me a dopey thumbs up._

 _"_ Some _of us are," Ide had sneered under his breath._

To be honest, I had expected Matsuda to leave the Kira investigation when other officers started bailing, but he hadn't. I'd been sure he would, though, when L made it clear he didn't trust the police. When we'd gone to meet L for the first time, I'd been surprised to see him with us, and I'd even wondered what his angle could be. I'd assumed he'd change his mind before long, but he'd hung in there, even when it meant he had to resign as an officer.

 _You always surprise me, Matsuda. I wonder if I'll ever start to figure you out._

Now I might not even get the chance.

Ide had told me what Matsuda said about how I never would have suspended the other two because they might be in danger. Even though Mogi had helped me to understand that Matsuda truly wanted to impress me, I hadn't realized he believed I thought that poorly of him, but it also showed me he must not completely understand my concerns. Aside from the fact that someone was out to get him right now, I hadn't forgotten how off he'd been lately, and when all was said and done, I was still worried about his emotional condition.

Whatever his motives were, whatever he thought he could achieve by playing vigilante, he obviously wasn't considering the danger he was in.

I could only hope he wasn't doing all of this to prove something to me.

 _When I find you, I'll explain it to you. I won't yell at you or anything. I just want you to know I_ don't _think poorly of you._

I looked at Ide again, feeling a painful ripping inside me as I said, "We could be identifying him at the morgue in a few days…"

He returned the look with an even more somber expression. "You are a pessimist, aren't you?"

"It's just reality, Ide."

"Eh." He squinted up at the sky again, blowing a stream of smoke from his nose. "It's possible, of course, but I doubt it. Even if he can't crack the case, I think he at least knows how to stay alive, so, if anything, he'll wander around a day or two, realize he's being stupid, and come back with a dumb apology."

"I hope so," I muttered.

He opened the car door for me. "Matsuda's gonna be fine, Shuichi. We just have to find him. And, really, how hard can that be?" 

* * *

**Matsuda**

During my stay at Light's apartment, I hadn't slept very well, constantly dreaming about Light, waking up and staring at the door, deliriously thinking he'd come in at any second, or else imagining he was already standing over me, but at least there I'd had the comfort of knowing one of the others was nearby. The motel felt cold and unsafe in comparison. Every time I heard a car outside or a noise in the room next door it woke me up. Sometimes I even got out of bed and snuck to the window to peek out, but I never saw anyone who looked particularly dangerous, and I always went and lay down again, telling myself I just needed to relax.

My nervous thoughts wouldn't let me, though, and I tossed and turned all night, worrying about my meeting the next day and rehearsing, over and over, what I should say to Atashi Rei.

Around seven am, I gave up on sleep, took a shower, and checked out of the motel.

Morning was bright, but I wasn't used to wearing sunglasses, so I kept lifting them to look around at my surroundings. So far, everything seemed peaceful, and with any luck my day would stay that way, but even so, I couldn't shake the feeling that I was heading into danger.

Rei and I weren't supposed to meet until noon, so I got some breakfast at the first restaurant I came across before heading toward the station. For all I knew being early could give me an edge.

Time passed slowly. I spent most of the morning wandering through Chiyoda, trying to look natural by window shopping or browsing through shops, but also avoiding places I thought I would be noticed. I felt like the whole city was out to get me.

When it got close to eleven, I headed to the station and stood a little ways away from the ticket gate, nervously watching the sparse crowd for anyone suspicious. Just at noon, my phone rang, and Rei's voice growled, "Where are you?"

We agreed to meet outside the gallery, and then I slipped my sunglasses over my eyes again. By this time, my friends shouldn't have any idea where to look for me, but that didn't mean they wouldn't comb through the station, and if I knew anything about Aizawa, he'd devote just as much time and energy to finding me as he would to solving the case.

My best hope was that by the time he caught up with me—because he would—I'd have something worthwhile to give him.

Staring intently at passersby, Rei stood exactly where he said he would be. He wore a tailored suit and carried an expensive-looking briefcase, but he kept mopping sweat from his forehead with a handkerchief.

I hung back to turn my phone off, checked for danger one last time, and then walked up to him.

Incredulously, he stared at me as I bent at my waist in a curt bow, and then returned the gesture, likely out of pure confusion.

"You're different than I imagined," he said, when we'd gotten through the pleasantries.

"Really?" I lifted my sunglasses to get a better look at his face, but he was just an average-looking, unusually fat, middle-aged man. "How?"

"Younger. I recognize you though—you were in Yama's that night talking to… Anyway, you're not as smart as you look either. You came alone, just like you said you would."

Searching for any sign that someone was watching us, I glanced around, but people simply milled in and out of the gallery, not paying any attention to us. "It looks like you're alone too, Rei-san."

"Hn. I must be as stupid as you are. I thought this place would be crawling with cops, but _you_ don't even look like a cop." He flicked a disapproving look at my jeans. "In any case, what choice did I have? You found out about my little hobby, and since you survived the party I arranged for you last Thursday you're more dangerous than ever."

No one had ever called me dangerous before, and I couldn't help stammering, "Oh. Yeah… But it's not like I'm here to hurt you." Realizing he'd confessed to setting up the drive-by, I did another thorough scan of the station.

Rei glared at me. "You have information that could put me away for years, assuming you spoke with Sayu Yagami. Do you understand now why I think you're stupid to come here alone?" He wiped his forehead again, wheezing a bit. "All the same, I'd be glad to get out of this with my life."

"That's good news," I agreed absently, still looking around.

"You seem nervous."

"You tried to have me killed," I reminded him.

He laughed suddenly, startling me. "Ah…that wasn't exactly my idea… Regardless, here we both are: a couple of idiots meeting on a fine Monday afternoon."

Maybe he was right. Maybe we were both stupid enough to come here alone. Might as well make the most of it.

"Let's get down to business," he suggested, lighting a cigarette, and I turned all my attention back to him. We were standing right under a no smoking sign, and I hoped no security guards would come along and interrupt our meeting. "Your offer is tempting, but I can't help but wonder what the catch is. It's not every day a cop calls me up and offers to protect me from being arrested."

"All I need is some info from you about one of your clients."

His face shadowed over and he puffed his cigarette, smoke rolling from his mouth. "I see."

"I know it's kinda a weird way to handle things, but if I could get anything useful from you, it would be enough to pardon you. Right now forgery isn't a very big deal."

"And what about the fact that I tried to have you killed?"

A bit surprised, I said, "But…you said that wasn't your idea."

"Hn, no, it wasn't. It's like I warned Captain Aizawa—I know some dangerous people, and by investigating me, you're getting close to them."

"What kind of people? Who are they?"

He studied me with his fish-like eyes and took a drag off his cigarette. "I have your word you're not going to arrest me?"

"As far as I'm concerned, if you help me, you can just walk away, and I'll pretend I never even talked to you."

Rei's already leathery brow furrowed. "You're a strange cop. Alright. Tell me what you need to know."

"Awesome!" I couldn't help smiling as I dug into my pocket to retrieve the fake Taro Matsui ID. Getting a hold of it had been even harder than getting my hands on Ide's gun, and I was glad I actually got to use it. "I believe you made five fake NPA IDs for someone recently." I handed it to him. "Look familiar?"

Rei took it and turned it over once. He grinned a little wanly. "Oh… Then you are _the_ Taro Matsui."

I frowned. "What's that mean?"

"Nothing. Yes, I made this a few weeks ago." He pulled at his collar, glancing over his shoulder, and I followed his gaze, but I didn't see anyone suspicious, just a non-descript young guy reading a map nearby. "To be honest, I have no idea who the IDs were for."

"But they hired you—how can you not know?" This could not be a dead end. I'd staked my life on this lead.

"Now, now," he cleared his throat and waved his hand. "Don't get upset. I never met the client in person, and he wouldn't tell me very much about what he needed the IDs for, so we used a middle man. Apparently the client knew someone who knows someone who had heard of me, so they hired me using a go-between."

"'Kay… Can you at least tell me _his_ name?"

He glanced over his shoulder again, and then checked his watch. "I don't know it. The only thing I do know is he's the bartender at Yama's. At least, he _was_. I haven't seen him in a while now—there's some new oaf working there. Gap-toothed guy."

Not Momo then, but the guy who worked there before him maybe—the guy who was working the night the ex NPA officers were shot outside. Could Miyami have been the client? I had a hard time imagining Miyami wearing that freaky mask and torturing Chiba to death.

That memory made me shudder.

"Is that all?" Rei looked at his watch again and took another drag from his cigarette. "I have somewhere to be."

"Sorry, just one more thing. You told me the drive-by wasn't your idea, so whose was it?"

Rei blew another cloud of smoke up into the air and suddenly threw his cigarette down. His expression darkened some, and so did his voice, "I'm not sure that's a good idea, Matsuda-san… I'm not sure it would be safe to tell you that. For me, or for you."

My heart throbbed with fear, but I had to stay tough, like Ide would. "Sorry, but if the only information you can give me is that you made these IDs for a man you never met, I don't think I can keep you from being arrested. If anything, it just means you'll have to be brought in for questioning. And if you can't tell me who organized the drive-by, you'll probably have to take the fall for that too."

He sighed. "I knew you'd be difficult. Just like your superior, no doubt."

"My superior?" I blinked at him. "Which one?"

Rei laughed suddenly. "Oh my, you are dense. Which one? Do you mean you're not very highly ranked? What's someone like you thinking, meeting a man who tried to kill you without any back up?"

My face felt somewhat warm as I answered, "You don't know anything about my rank. And if you're talking about Aizawa—"

"Ah, so you are working under Captain Aizawa. I thought you might be. He's clearly the one trying to arrest me."

I was quiet a while, afraid to blurt out anything else he didn't need to know.

"Yes, Shuichi Aizawa was difficult when I talked with him. Impossible to do business with. I had hoped you'd be more accommodating."

I clenched my fist, wishing I could reach into my jacket if only to feel the reassuring steel of my gun.

"Well, I'll tell you this much, and hopefully it'll keep you from going back on your word not to arrest me. My client contacted me a few hours before I met with Sayu Yagami. He was the one who recommended we meet at the Shinjuku Prince in the first place, so I assume he was watching me closely, and that he must have men working at the hotel."

That could explain, I realized, how the shooter had gotten away without a trace. After climbing to the roof, an associate could have let him back in and helped him blend into the staff, but that was the kind of thing that would take either very careful planning, power, or a lot of money.

"In any case," Rei wheezed, "he also warned me that Sayu Yagami is involved with a cop named Touta Matsuda, and that you might be using her to get to me so you could find a way to my client. He really scared the shit out of me, you know." He panted a bit, and his face paled, as if remembering a bad memory. "He said I could go to jail for the rest of my life if you found out I did work for him. Of course, not long before that, I had found your wallet in my yard and was able to have my man tail you."

My breath hitched. Someone had been following me since Aizawa and I went to Rei's house, and I didn't even know it. They could have killed me at any time, or any of my teammates.

Rei wiped his forehead and checked his watch. "As for Sayu, she told me she had never met you, and I wanted to believe she genuinely needed my help. I always liked her father—he wasn't like the typical, scum bag cops. He was a good man."

"So…you're not planning to hurt her…right?"

"No. Look, kid, I don't know what's going on exactly, but when I found your wallet it had two IDs in it. Normal for a cop to have an alias…I guess, but Corporal Taro Matsui… That's the only name I was specifically asked to put on one of the fake IDs, and in that case, I assume you're the man this whacko on the television is looking for." His voice dipped low, barely uttering, "The man who shot Kira."

I held my breath, waiting for him to betray me. It seemed like just about anyone would.

"Looking at you, I find that a bit hard to believe, but regardless, I don't want any part of any of that madness," he explained, eyes clearing up with what seemed to be sincerity. "Believe me. Maybe I'm already involved against my will, but I honestly never met my client, and I had no idea he was going to kill NPA officers. I'd rather go to jail than get pulled deeper into this insanity." Huffing and mopping his forehead, he added, "This so-called Reaper is a monster; what he did to that NPA detective was unforgiveable."

My heart softened at those words. They seemed genuine. "Well, you're cooperating, so that's a good thing. If you hide a while longer, and then come forward with a testimony later, it could help us put this guy away, and I bet you'd be pardoned. It doesn't hurt that I'm close to the guy running the investigation."

"Aizawa, right? When you see him, tell him I'm sorry about that trick with the gun. I'm not a killing man—I was just desperate—and that drive-by wasn't my idea."

"I'm sure I can convince Aizawa it was a mistake," I told him with a smile, and I was starting to feel a little excited. If Rei testified what he knew, we could actually start building a case. "It's just a matter of cooperation!" I gave him a thumbs up.

Weakly, Rei smiled back. He stayed quiet a moment and then looked at his watch again, speaking slowly. "You seem like a nice guy."

I laughed. I'd gone from dangerous to nice in just ten minutes. That was progress in my book.

Suddenly, he snagged my arm and yanked me in close, whispering, "I've got something to tell you now."

"O-okay…" He smelled heavily of smoke and bourbon. I tried to pull away from him, but he held on tight.

"I've been lying to you, Matsuda-san."

"Lying? About what?"

"After you called me last night, I contacted our middle man and told him about our meeting. He agreed to come along today—"

Eyes threatening to burst from their sockets, I scanned wildly through the crowd, trying to really look at people, the way Mogi did. I tried not to seem scared, like Ide could, but my heart was already racing. "But…"

"I was supposed to talk to you for ten minutes, see what you had to say, and then give the signal."

"S-signal?" My lungs felt tight and small, and sweat beaded on my forehead. This was it. He'd say "this signal," wave his hand or something, and I'd be killed.

He hissed, "I don't want to do that, Matsuda-san; I believe what you said about keeping me out of jail, and I desperately want out of this mess. I'm only in it thanks to my own greed, I guess…but I'm willing to help you, as long as you _promise_ I won't go to jail."

"I…I promise…" My voice was small. I wasn't like Aizawa. I couldn't be firm and stay in control, not when I was this afraid. "What should I do?"

His eyes narrowed. "You really came alone?"

"Y-yeah…I…"

"There's not much time left. I'm supposed to give the signal. Now, I want you to wrench away from me like you've figured out something is wrong, and then run for your damn life. Get on that train and go as far as you can."

My tongue felt dry as I asked, "Will you be okay? I mean…they won't do anything to you, right?"

"No, no, I'll be fine. I'll tell them you got away, and they'll have to believe me. They'll want to know what you said."

"But won't they want you dead because of the information _you_ gave _me_?"

"Kid," he growled. "You wanna die? Just do what I tell you."

"Right…" I was shaking now, wondering what Aizawa would do. "Right… Wrench away…"

"On three." He seemed to think a second, and then said quieter than ever. "There is one more thing though; the first middle man we had was actually a go-between for a go-between. Get it?"

I could hardly think about the case right now, but I nodded. "I-I think so…"

"Any time I wanted to speak with the client, I had to tell the bartender, and then he told someone else, and _that_ person told the client."

"Okay…" I stared around at the crowds.

Rei jerked my arm, hissing, emphatically, "Listen. One of those men disappeared, and there's only one left connecting me to my client. His name is Hiro—"

A single ear-splitting shot rang through the station. People around us screamed and dove to the ground, shielding their heads. Blood spattered my face, and for a second I was sure I'd been shot. I stared at Rei, mouth falling open. A chunk of his skull had been blown away, along with his left eye. The other stared vacantly. His body tumbled forward, crimson gushing down what was left of his face.

Screaming, I struggled to catch him, but he was too heavy, and he smashed against the pavement, blood pooling around his head.

More shots echoed around me, followed by more cries of terror. People started running and ducking for cover. I felt a bullet zing past me and hit the wall.

Blindly, I sprinted up the stairs, slugs buzzing by my head, barely missing. I ran serpentine formation, like I'd been taught, and hopped over the turnstile, dashing crazily for the sunlight, shoes slipping on the slick floor of the station.

A bullet nicked my ear.

Gasping, I clasped my hand over it, but I didn't dare slow down.

"No, no, you idiot! The boss wants him alive!"

Outside, I heard sirens screaming into the cold air, already pulling into the parking lot.

Boots pounded on the pavement behind me. I knew if I just had the guts to look over my shoulder, I'd see whoever was trying to kill me.

With a deep breath, I glanced back. There were just two, both wearing black ski masks. One of them fired a pop shot at me.

The other shouted, "The cops are here! We have to run."

From the sound of things, they stayed right behind me, still firing.

I felt like I was about to choke up my own stomach lining.

"C'mon! Reaper'll be pissed if we're caught!"

Then, one final shot rang out and the gunfire ceased.

Leaping over the last two stairs, I jagged through the exit and crashed out into the sunlight just as a pair of cruisers screamed onto the sidewalk, lights flashing. One stopped right in front of me, and I banged against it, leaned there a moment, and out of instinct, glanced up at the driver.

Aizawa gaped back at me.

Immediately, I sprang away, running as fast as my feet would carry me up the street.

 _Maybe he didn't recognize me…_

The car door slammed. "Matsuda! Stop!"

 _Too much to hope for._

I rounded the corner so fast I nearly fell and had to steady myself against the wall of the station. I heard him behind me, still yelling for me to stop where I was. I raced up the sidewalk and into a crowd of people, shoving my way past them. I tripped once but righted myself immediately, ducked into an alley, and streamed past a man begging for change.

"Matsuda!" Aizawa shouted somewhere behind me, but he sounded far away. "Matsuda!"

I took a few turns at random until I was good and lost in the maze of back roads, and then darted across the next major street I came to, barely escaped getting creamed by oncoming traffic, and sprang onto the sidewalk again. Only then, did I stop, shaking and panting, to scan the area.

The guys with the guns were long gone, and I didn't see Aizawa. I'd managed to lose them all.

Rei, though… Rei was…

 _Don't think about that_.

Jogging to the nearest bus stop, I boarded the first bus to show up and took a seat at the very back, where I sat with my knees hugged to my chest and my forehead pressed against them, just trying to calm myself down.

 _I'm okay_ , I kept telling myself. _I'm okay. I'm okay._

Some of the other passengers stared at me weird, and one or two of them even moved away from me. I realized I was still splashed with blood, and I did my best to scrub it off and hide my face.

I kept seeing Rei fall to the floor, dead, half of his head blown apart like a watermelon. Did they kill him because he was about to give me the middle man's name? They must have figured out that he was going to let me go. He did manage to blurt out the name Hiro before being shot. Hiro Miyami? The guy chasing me had said Reaper would be angry, so I thought that more or less confirmed the idea that the Reaper had been Rei's client.

Had Rei known he was in danger of being killed? He must have if he was looking for a way out.

Now he was dead.

And Miyami might be involved. He could be the middle man between Rei and the Reaper, just like Light had used Takada to talk with Mikami.

 _That's just a coincidence. It's a smart thing to do._

At least it was a good lead. I tried to tell myself I'd done a good job, but I didn't know if it was worth Rei's life.

 _I have to make sure I use it to wrap up this case._

Right now, there was only one person who might be able to tell me the truth about Miyami, Reaper, Rei, and the middle man who had disappeared, but that meant going back to Yama's.

 _Just as soon as I don't feel like throwing up anymore…_

For a long, long time, I sat on the bus, watching the scenery but not paying any attention to where I was, and I tried not to think about anything, especially not the horrible look on Rei's face when he was shot.

* * *

 **Sayu**

From my bedroom window, I watched the police cruiser, wondering what it meant for it to be there at all and what Matsuda had told Aizawa about my involvement.

Just now, I didn't recognize any of the officers outside, but occasionally I saw Kanzo Mogi or Hideki Ide posted there, and I knew they must have a serious reason to want to keep an eye on us. So far, I didn't think Mom had noticed.

Inevitably, I stared down at my cell phone. It had only been a day since I heard from Matsuda, but with all the terrible things happening right now, I couldn't stop worrying about him and the others.

Prior to my father's death, I'd rarely spoken to any of them, and after my kidnapping, I'd hardly recognized them, despite the fact that all were present at Dad's funeral, paying their respects to me and my mother and brother in voices I could hardly make sense of. It had all meant very little to me at a time when even my dad dying had seemed too unreal to have much impact, and I thought now that some unconscious part of me had even _chosen_ to stay that way if only because I'd known, on some level of my intellect, that waking up would mean having to face everything and cope.

But when Matsuda had come to my mother and I at Light's funeral, with the saddest look imaginable on his face, eyes full of tears, and apologized with such sincerity you'd think he was personally responsible for my brother's death, it had stirred me out of my trauma-induced shock, and I'd looked at him in a new light.

Investigating with him had only strengthened that feeling.

Even if we could never be together, I felt a powerful desire to be near him and to hear his voice. My days seemed to revolve around whether or not I could go out with him, and the longer the investigation went on, the more I understood that those feelings had less to do with the case than they did with just being around him. Since he'd walked me home from Light and Misa's apartment, I felt intoxicated by him, thrilled in his presence, lonely at his absence.

Barely hearing from him in the last five days had been an unexpected agony. Without the promise of being able to hit the street with him, waiting for him to call me up and tell me how he was doing seemed like the only thing I had to look forward to.

After studying my phone a few minutes, I picked it up and called him for the third time in two hours, but he hadn't even recorded a personal greeting for his voicemail yet, and I still didn't understand what he'd told me about getting a new phone, especially since he'd seemed so happy with the Nexus he'd purchased only last week.

All of it seemed very suspicious.

"Dammit." I all but dropped my phone back on the desk. "Where are you?"

"Sayu." I heard Mom knocking on my door, and then she peeked through, looking more even worried than usual. "You have some visitors."

"Visitors?" My heart leapt with hope as I turned to her.

"That's right. Come downstairs, please, they'd like to talk with you."

From the grave tone in her voice, I assumed it must be the police—maybe they'd come to explain why they'd been staked out at our house all week—but did I dare hope it might be Matsuda?

Stuffing my phone into my pocket, I hurried downstairs, where I heard manly voices murmuring back and forth in the living room. It _could_ be him…it must be.

Convinced it had to be, I skipped over the last step, already smiling, and dashed into the living room, only to find my mother serving tea to Aizawa and Mogi.

My heart sank again with disappointment, and I even looked once around the room to make sure he really wasn't there with them.

"Here she is now." Mom smiled. "Sayu, say hello to the detectives."

Struggling to hide my dissatisfaction, I bowed. "Good afternoon, Aizawa-san. Mogi-san. It's nice to see you again."

They both mumbled their own formalities in return, and I noticed how tired they looked, baggy-eyed, ties missing, and it looked like Aizawa had even misaligned the buttons on his shirt, a far cry from the collected, professional appearance they usually wore.

Mom said, "They'd like to ask you some questions, Sayu. Is that okay?" She was using that soothing voice she'd adopted after my kidnapping.

"All right," I agreed, crossing the room to sit down in Dad's old arm chair, but I felt nervous. They must have come because they found out I'd been withholding information from them.

For a moment, no one spoke. Mogi sipped his tea, and Mom watched me expectantly, like I might give her some clue as to what was going on.

Rubbing the bridge of his nose, Aizawa looked up at her. "Thank you, Mrs. Yagami. Please excuse us."

Mom frowned, and I knew she'd rather not, but he hadn't left any room for argument, so she took her teapot and went into the other room.

At once, the detectives turned scrutinizing gazes on me. Mogi looked like he could see right through me; Aizawa just looked cranky. My heart beat picked up a tick, and I wondered if there was any way for me to talk my way out of this.

"Is something wrong, Detective?" I asked, meeting Aizawa's bleary gaze.

"No. We just want to ask a few questions." He produced a notepad and pen.

"I'll do my best to help."

"Thanks." He tapped the pen against the notepad a few times, seeming to think, taking his time to speak. "Look, Sayu, you've been spending a lot of time with Corporal Matsuda lately, haven't you?"

Here it came. They were going to try and get a confession out of me about helping him investigate, and then they'd probably arrest us both. "Yes, that's true."

"Has he been confiding in you at all?"

"I don't think Matsuda-san would ever leak information about the investigation."

He shook his head. "No, I meant has he been confiding anything personal in you?"

So far, this interview wasn't going the way I'd anticipated; I hesitated to glance at Mogi, but it didn't look like he'd even blinked since he sat down, and he was impossible to read. I tugged on my necklace. "Occasionally."

Still tapping his pen, Aizawa nodded, and I thought he looked immensely stressed out. "Well, when was the last time you spoke with him?"

"Yesterday."

"I'd appreciate it if you could be more specific, Sayu-kun."

Like on the day I'd brought lunch to him and Matsuda, his manners were borderline rude, and his questions didn't seem to have anything to do with withholding information. More like he was asking me about someone who'd gone missing or died. "Did something happen to Matsuda-san?" I asked quietly, barely managing the cold grip of fear that idea let into my heart.

Mogi shook his head. "As far as we know, he's fine."

"As far as you know?" I echoed.

Aizawa's answer wasn't nearly as soothing. "That's what we're trying to find out, so we need you to be as honest and accurate as possible."

My chest felt tight again. "I…I think it was fifteen til six… He called to tell me he got a new phone. I thought that was weird, since he just got one a few days ago."

Aizawa gave an unhappy sigh. "Yeah. Did he say where he was going?"

"No, nothing like that. He acted like he couldn't talk long. I asked him to call me back later, but he never did." I lingered there, watching the way it affected them. Aizawa lowered his head almost imperceptibly, as if admitting defeat, and scribbled a short note. Mogi finally turned away from me and set his yunomi down, frowning like there was something wrong with the tea. "I assumed he was busy with work."

"He didn't just call to tell you he got a new phone, did he?" Mogi asked, as if Matsuda calling just to brag about his new phone would be perfectly normal, and again I thought of the day I'd taken them lunch, how, even though the distress was evident all over his face, he'd excitedly shown me the Nexus he'd bought, and how Aizawa had eventually scolded him for taking pictures.

"No," I agreed, "he called to give me his new number. I can give it to you, if you want." I scrolled through my own phone; obviously they didn't have his number or know where he was, but I asked, "Where is he?"

"We're not sure," Aizawa mumbled reluctantly.

Worriedly, I looked up at him again. "So he's missing? After that drive-by it's obvious someone's trying to kill him. Do you think he's—"

"No, no," Aizawa said hastily. "As far as we know, he's okay. I suspended him from the investigation and had him in protective custody."

Matsuda must have hated that, particularly after what he'd said about wanting to prove himself.

"Because of the drive-by?"

"Exactly. We didn't think it was safe for him to be on the streets."

As scary as the drive-by had been, I doubted that alone would be enough for Aizawa to decide to suspend Matsuda from the case completely, let alone put him in protective custody. In fact, based on what little I understood, I wasn't completely sure Aizawa had the authority to do something like that without facing kidnapping charges.

"Yesterday he disappeared on us, and no one's heard from him since."

That was strange too. As far as I knew, being in protective custody was a little like being in jail, and I didn't see how he could have gotten away from them.

"I don't think there's any cause to be alarmed," Aizawa went on. "We just wanted to check with you and see if you'd heard from him recently."

"The number helps," Mogi added, clearing his throat.

Faintly, I recited the number, and Aizawa jotted it down.

"Thanks," he said. "Make sure you let us know if he calls you again." He handed me a business card with his name and rank on it, and I tucked it away.

"I wonder," Mogi spoke up again. "Did he mention anything about a train station?"

"No," I murmured. "Not that I remember. Why?"

Aizawa sighed. "I thought I saw him in Chiyoda station this morning while I was there on a call."

"Matsuda didn't mention anything about going over there."

"Right, of course not." He grumbled, "Little bastard's smart when he wants to be." With that, he got up again, followed by Mogi. "We appreciate your help, Sayu. Sorry to bother you."

"Wait, Aizawa." I jumped up before they could move for the door. "I mean…Aizawa-san… Did you…figure out who tried to kill him on Thursday night?"

The detectives exchanged glances. "No. Not as of yet."

I swallowed hard, feeling my mind start to spin. "I-I think… _maybe_ , it might have been Atashi Rei. See, on Thursday, Matsuda and I were going to meet him at that café. I have this tape—"

"I know, Sayu," Aizawa interrupted gently. "Matsuda told me what you guys were doing, but I didn't see any point in mentioning it, seeing how Atashi Rei is dead."

"Dead?" My body lurched from the shock. "What do you mean?"

"He died this morning at Chiyoda station," Mogi explained.

I felt ready to faint. There was no way Matsuda would do something that extreme. Still, it seemed like an outrageous coincidence. It couldn't _be_ a coincidence.

The detectives studied me, and then exchanged concerned glances. Mogi even moved in like he thought I might fall down.

As I pictured Rei, with his ugly shark face and his flabby body, remembering the lunch we'd had together, I didn't like to think of him being dead, and I liked even less to think of Matsuda as being responsible for it.

 _You couldn't…_ Sweet Touta Matsuda was barely tough enough to be a police officer, let alone to kill someone.

Heart racing all the faster, I looked back on the fight he'd gotten into outside Yama's bar; he'd surprised me with how quick and powerful he was—much faster and much stronger than he actually appeared—but that terrible look on his face still stood out in my mind, those hard, flashing eyes, the vicious curl of his lips as he swung, and how determined each blow had been, and I realized, like experiencing a harsh cold snap, that Matsuda was capable of more violence than I'd ever expected.

 _You could have…_

Mogi touched my shoulder lightly.

My throat felt dry and my stomach was heavy like it had sand sitting in it, but I took a stammering breath and croaked, "There…there's something I need to tell you…"

Aizawa looked at me with concern. "About Corporal Matsuda?"

I nodded slowly, as Mogi helped me back into the chair and handed me my tea.

"Matsuda _did_ call me yesterday," I explained when I'd taken a sip. "He _didn't_ tell me where he was headed, but he did say you were hunting for Atashi Rei, and he wanted his number. I-I have it… Rei's number."

They looked at me with wide eyes, and I briefly explained how I'd come to have Rei's phone number.

"That's so Matsuda," Aizawa muttered, "calling to get a phone number he could have found online."

"I think…" I whispered, "maybe he wanted Rei's number so he could try and go after him. I think…I think Matsuda might have killed Rei."

Aizawa's eyes darkened. "That's a big leap, Sayu."

"No, you're right. But Atashi Rei asked me about Matsuda when I met with him… It's on the tape."

He winced, "Yeah, I remember."

"Then isn't it possible that Matsuda having Rei's phone number could have given him a way to confront him? I mean, even if Rei was in hiding, would he have ignored a phone call from a man he was looking for or even wanted dead?"

"It's _possible_ ," Aizawa agreed reluctantly. "I still don't see why Matsuda would want Rei dead. It isn't like him."

Of course not. I wanted to believe that. And obviously, they'd know better than I did what Matsuda was capable of.

"That's true," I said, and thought a moment. Matsuda was in trouble, possibly in danger, and that was more important than whether or not I'd be arrested. "I have a confession to make."

"Great." Aizawa looked toward the hall, where Mom had disappeared into the study. "Let's hear it."

"There's no way to sugar coat it." I clenched my hands together in my lap. "I didn't want you to know about my connection to Atashi Rei."

"It _was_ stupid of the corporal to get you involved."

"I got _him_ involved," I corrected quickly. "This whole thing was my idea. When he told me you guys were having trouble arresting Rei I met with him and recorded our conversation, and then I told Matsuda about it."

Aizawa's face shadowed with confusion, but Mogi cut in. "Why would he be telling _you_ about the case?"

I winced. "Yeah…that… The confession is…" I took a deep breath, and then whispered so Mom wouldn't overhear. "I've been helping Matsuda investigate ever since those five men were killed at the hotel."

Aizawa's mouth fell open. "You _what_?"

Before he could say more, I went on to tell them the whole story of how I'd learned about the shotgun, and how I'd chosen the officer most likely to work with me. I took them through each event in as much detail as I could remember, editing a few personal aspects, and then I reiterated the story about Atashi Rei, the tape, and the events of Thursday.

Both of them stared quietly at me as I talked, and I wished I could go on and on forever so they'd never have an opportunity to be angry or place me under arrest, but soon enough I was out of things to say, with nothing to do except wait for the consequences of what I'd done.

Aizawa jumped up without warning, shouting, "What was that idiot thinking?"

"Aizawa," Mogi hissed, but it was no good.

"No wonder he was asking about the penalty for withholding information—I wonder how many stupid things he's done in the last week because he was trying to protect you!"

Mogi whispered again, "Captain, please—"

"You're no better," Aizawa pointed at me, barely lowering his voice, and I suddenly felt like my father was in the room, scolding me, in an uncharacteristically bad temper, for being stupid. "Don't you realize the trouble you could get in?"

"I wanted to help," I murmured, feeling foolish. "After Kira destroyed my family and ruined my life…I felt like—"

"That's no excuse to hide things from the NPA—you could go to jail! Matsuda too!"

Mom emerged from the hall, wringing her hands. "Sayu? Is everything all right?"

Ferociously, I bit my lip, nodding, even though I felt positive Aizawa would tell her right then and there what I'd done, just before he slapped the handcuffs on me.

Instead, he suddenly sat down on the couch, rubbing his face, and Mogi smiled at her. "Everything's fine, Mrs. Yagami. Please excuse my captain."

Mom looked at him, and then stared at Aizawa, and finally back to me.

"Everything's okay," I told her, just as strongly as I could manage.

"Forgive my manners," Aizawa grated out. "We're almost finished here, Mrs. Yagami."

At last, Mom nodded, but she kept her eyes fixed sternly on me as she turned away, and I knew it was impossible for her to have not overheard at least some of what Aizawa had said.

When she was gone, he leaned forward again to hiss, "No matter what the reason was, you shouldn't have done that."

"Technically," I ventured, in a quiet voice, "I _did_ tell a police detective."

"She has a point," Mogi told him. "Corporal Matsuda should have filed a report."

Aizawa exclaimed, "He knew she could get in trouble! That's obviously why he didn't."

"Even so, he did tell us a lot of this information already."

I shot Mogi a grateful look.

Aizawa got up and started pacing, going around and around until I thought he'd wear a path in the carpet.

I waited a moment or two before asking smally, "Are you going to take me to jail?"

He stopped and gazed out the window a long moment. "Did you tell me absolutely _everything_ now? You didn't leave anything out?"

"Yes, that's everything. If I have to go to jail, at least—"

He turned on me, snapping, "You're not going to jail. You _should_ be charged, obviously; interfering with police business is no joke."

Grimly, I nodded. "I understand, sir."

"Aizawa," Mogi said disapprovingly. "Don't you think—?"

" _However_ ," Aizawa went on. "You're the only thing your mother has left in the world. I would have to be one cold bastard to arrest you. So I won't."

It was an announcement that called for professions of gratitude and promises to never do it again, but I nodded all the more gravely. "Thank you, sir."

And yet, Aizawa's expression turned all the sterner. "You have to promise me you're going to stay out of it from now on. Don't go out playing detective anymore, and for God's sake, if that idiot calls you back and tells you anything else, call me."

"Yes, sir. I will."

Still, he didn't seem satisfied. "What you did was stupid and reckless; you've been through a lot, I'm not belittling that, but you need to think about your actions in the future, and the way they affect other people."

"I will," I agreed quickly. "I'm sorry."

"You had no business getting involved in this—your responsibility right now is to your mother and yourself."

"Yes. You're right."

He nodded, expression severe, and I figured his kids didn't get away with much when he was around. "There must be a better way for you to spend your time and energy. I recommend you find it."

"Aizawa," Mogi said suddenly. "You do have to admit the things Matsuda and Sayu found helped us get where we are today."

A painfully long pause followed, and I could tell Aizawa didn't appreciate being undermined, but he relented. "I'm not denying that." He looked at me again, still unflinchingly stern. "Poking around is one thing, Sayu, but lying to the police hinders the case. I hope that, as the daughter of Soichiro Yagami, you understand the difference."

"I do," I said eagerly, hoping this signified the end of the lecture. "Believe me, I do. In fact, I wanted to tell you everything on Thursday, Aizawa-san, but Matsuda wouldn't let me."

"Sounds like him." He scowled all the deeper, and I knew the words didn't change his feelings in the least.

"I just hope what I told you helps you find him."

He sighed. "Me too."

Getting the truth out made me feel better, and I even managed to smile as I showed them to the door. Later, I might have to explain things to Mom, but for now it seemed like everything had turned out okay.

Aizawa paused on the step to speak to me again, and I was half afraid he'd pick the lecture up where he left off.

Instead, he looked at me with obvious concern. "Sayu… The two of you weren't ever really dating then, were you?"

A bit surprised, I shook my head. "No. Not yet… But…I wasn't trying to lead him on. I _do_ like him."

He cocked his head, barely looking at me from the corner of his eye, and shoved his hands deep into his pockets. "So…you would?"

Why was he being so weird about it? Did he think that was some kind of problem? "Sure. I care about him."

"I see." His voice seemed strangely dark and even a bit sad. He nodded. "Well, I'll try to find him for you."And then, without explaining where any of that despair had come from, he left me there to worry.


	14. Chapter 14

**Matsuda**

* * *

By the time I got off the bus I was a long way from Kabukicho, but I was in walking condition again, so I started heading back that way, too dazed to pay attention to anything around me, letting my thoughts ferment and turn dark.

Even when I'd been standing right there, I hadn't been able to help Rei; I'd promised him protection I couldn't provide, and I'd gotten him killed, just like all the NPA officers who'd been murdered lately.

So many people were dying needlessly all because some psycho thought punishing me for killing Kira would fix everything. I didn't have many resources, I wasn't as intelligent as Light, or as strong as Aizawa, as cool as Ide, or as perceptive as Mogi. I didn't know where my strengths lay really, and I didn't know how to stop the killings. Another four officers would have died today—at least—probably while I was riding around on the bus incapacitated by my own terror.

As I passed the window of a rundown shop I caught a glimpse of my own reflection. Between my shaggy hair and tattered jeans, I didn't even _look_ like a detective now, and I felt worthless. I even wondered, if I handed myself over, would this end?

Probably not. The only real answer to any of my personal problems anyway was to find a way to fix this. Maybe, if I proved my worth as a cop—to myself and to the others—I wouldn't get shuffled into a corner like a child during the next case.

I still just couldn't believe Aizawa did that, outside the normal chain of command and everything. It wasn't like him to cross such a serious line, and I knew that meant he had some serious convictions, but it didn't change how insulting it felt or how angry it made me.

By the time I reached Yama's, it had started to rain, and rage had replaced my fear. Not only was someone hijacking my career, they'd hurt everyone I cared about in their mission to kill me, and I'd had so few people in my life who'd stick up for me or put themselves in harm's way for me, the idea that the Reaper wanted to take away all the things I'd earned through blood, sweat, and tears was more than I could stand.

He must think I was weak, and my friends might think so too, but I wasn't letting any of this go without a fight.

As the sun went down, I walked into Yama's, finding it deader than usual. A handful of guys played pool, and a couple more were passed out at the bar, but Momo stood behind the counter, polishing glasses, his eyes widening when he saw me. "Matsuda? Damn, I barely recognized ya."

Shaking the rain out of my hair, I approached the counter. "Hey, Momo."

He slid my beer of choice toward me, and I was so strung out from the day's events I snatched it up immediately and chugged down a quarter of the bottle, feeling lightheaded the second it hit my empty stomach.

"So. You're alone tonight," he said, checking me up and down. "Ev'rything alright?"

Wiping my mouth on my sleeve, I looked up the stairs where Nishi Yamaguchi had been murdered, and then I rested my hand lightly on the handle of Ide's gun, purely for the sake of reassurance. As I studied Momo, noticing his blank stare, I realized he was just a pawn in all this. Like me.

"I need some information about Atashi Rei," I told him. I didn't know if I'd ever gotten to the point so quickly in my life, but I was done playing around.

Momo's eyes narrowed but his voice stayed friendly. "Oh yeah? Well, I'm happy ta help if I can—but like I said before, don't know much about him, other than he's a forger."

"That's what I wanna talk to you about. Rei told me he made some fake IDs a few weeks ago for an anonymous client. I think you might know something about it, since he also told me he was contacting that client through the guy who ran this bar before you."

The faintest suggestion of worry flickered in his eyes, but he kept his focus on polishing his glasses, and his voice stayed smooth. "What would I know about him? He's just some guy who had a job before I got it."

"You never met him? Not even once?"

"Sorry, can't say that I did."

I did a quick glance around the bar, but no one was paying any attention to us. "I think you're lying. I think you know who killed him."

At last, Momo glared up at me. "The hell _is_ this? Look, kid, I run a bar. You need a drink, I can help you out, but lemme outta this secret agent bullshit."

"All I need to know is the name of the guy who used to work here. You must at least know his name."

"I _don't_ know, Matsuda." Subtle defiance edged in on his voice. "Every time you come in here you got some question about so-and-so; I don't gotta answer this time. So how 'bout you finish your drink and get out?"

Maybe he was right. Maybe I really was just one pawn going after another pawn, he couldn't help, and I had come to yet another dead end. I was sick of that too though, just like I was sick of getting pushed around and sidelined and punished for things that weren't my fault. And then I realized I was no pawn after all—I was the king.

Furious, I snagged Momo's collar in one hand and yanked Ide's gun from the back of my jeans, jamming the barrel against his chest.

His eyes popped, and I watched the color drain from his face. The bar turned totally quiet, and I felt my hands shaking, finger trembling against the trigger guard.

"I didn't come in here for a beer," I snarled. "I came in here to get some goddamned answers."

"I-I-I don't know nothin! I swear! Nothin!"

I felt all eyes on the bar glued to me. Someone crept closer, but I didn't dare let them distract me.

"S-someone call the cops!" Momo whimpered.

"I _am_ the cops," I announced darkly. "Go ahead and call them. They'd be on my side."

By this time he was shaking so bad I thought he'd collapsed, and he made several pathetic, mewling sounds.

I bumped his sternum with the muzzle of the gun. "What's the name?"

"N-Nishi," he gasped at last. "His name was Nishi. Nishi Yamaguchi. He worked here for over ten years before I got hired."

"He's dead now. Did you know that?"

Terror burning in his eyes, his face turned even paler, and he gave a quiet groan.

"What about Hiro Miyami? Did they know each other?"

Momo clammed up, pursing his lips like he was afraid the answers would spill out if he opened his mouth, so I nudged him with the gun again. "Tell me."

"Hey… Hey, kid," one of the patrons behind me said, easing forward. "Why don't you put the gun away before somebody gets hurt?"

"I told you," I said loudly enough for everyone in the bar to hear, but I kept both eyes on Momo. "Go ahead and call the police if that'll make you feel better. I'll even give you the name of my immediate superior and my badge number. But I am not leaving without this information. Now did they know each other or not?"

"Yeah," Momo husked, licking his thin lips. "They were partners…Miyami and Nishi… They owned this place together."

"So what about their deal with Rei? Did Nishi talk to Miyami for him?"

Momo squeaked, "I don't know nothin' about that. I swear."

"This gun _is_ loaded."

"This is nuts!" a customer shouted. "Somebody do something!"

"Shut up!" I ordered, unable to resist glaring back at them.

Breath quivering, Momo closed his eyes. "Please… Please, Matsuda… Don't…"

"Just tell me the truth. Was he their middle man?"

Slowly, he nodded, eyes still shut as he waited for the bang that would end his life. "Yes… I-I think so… I was just a bus boy, but a few weeks before Nishi disappeared I noticed he was paying more attention to Atashi Rei than the other customers. He'd always go and talk to Miyami right after Rei left. He could have been…"

"And where's Miyami now?"

"Y-you gotta believe me!" His voice hitched with sudden hysteria. "I don't know! You gotta believe me, Matsuda! He's hiding—that's all I know! He's been hiding ever since you came asking about Atashi Rei!"

Around us, some of the customers had gone back to their drinks, pretending this wasn't happening, and some still stood spellbound, watching our exchange. I thought a moment. We hadn't had any trouble trailing Miyami up until the night of the drive-by outside the Chiyoda café. If Momo thought he was hiding he must have been specifically staying away from Yama's so we couldn't connect him to the case.

Momo babbled, "If I knew I swear I'd tell ya, Matsuda. I have no idea. I really don't. He didn't tell anyone! You gotta believe me!"

I realized Miyami couldn't even look like he was connected to this bar if he wanted to look like he had nothing to do with the case. He'd be stupid to tell anyone where he'd gone. Finding him would be impossible.

Shoving Momo back, I lowered the gun slowly. "I believe you." Around me, the whole room heaved a sigh of relief, so I added, "Sorry for the scare everyone; Momo, thanks for your help." It felt dumb to thank him when he'd only helped because I'd forced him to, but I couldn't walk away without saying anything. I wanted to apologize too—it wasn't his fault pawns were pitted against kings when the game got down to the last few moves.

Pressing himself against the wall, panting, Momo stared at me like I was a demon straight out of hell. "Y-you're a dangerous man, Matsuda-san."

As I backed toward the exit, I didn't feel dangerous; I felt like a rat in a cage. "Nishi is dead, Momo," I told him. "And so is Rei. For all we know, you're next." After all, somebody shot Rei to keep him from blurting out the name Hiro Miyami, and Momo had just given me everything I needed to connect Miyami to the case short of physical evidence. "I'd get out of this if I were you."

Momo stared at me like he barely understood speech.

Slipping the gun into my hoodie, I walked back into the rain.

Based on what little I'd heard from the gunmen at the train station this morning, Miyami was probably working for the Reaper, and that meant he was subject to being killed as soon as he became a liability. I had to get to him first.

As I walked, I kept glancing over my shoulder, feeling like someone was sneaking up behind me. I felt lonely. It would be nice to have someone with me to discuss the things I'd just learned and watch my back. I missed Sayu. My stomach turned over and over beneath my lungs, and the rain soaked me to the bone until my teeth chattered. I got out my phone and thought about calling Aizawa. I could die, and when I did all the information I'd gotten would die with me.

Fresh air cleared my head a little, and as I thought back on what I'd just done, I realized out of control I was acting, just like when I'd shot Light. I'd been so angry… There hadn't been any room for anything outside my emotional reaction.

 _Maybe I am dangerous_.

Gunshots rattled off in my head, making me want to throw Ide's gun down the nearest storm drain. Light's voice screamed, " _I know you understand so kill the others!"_

Apparently, he'd seen some of that in me as well. I _had_ understood Kira. Sometimes I even wondered what I would have done with the death note, but, of course, I always stopped that fantasy from getting far, reminding myself what Light had done was wrong—evil—and anyway, I wouldn't have expected to accomplish much with it anyway. Even writing a single name down would destroy my conscience.

 _I'm the man who shot Kira… I never would have expected to be_ that _either._

Plenty of my childhood had been spent getting bullied in the schoolyard or helplessly watching my mom get slapped around at home, even as a teenager. I never would have pictured myself being even slightly intimidating, but I'd joined the NPA because I wanted to protect the innocent from the really big, bad bullies.

Guns, though… There was no honor in guns, no real skill in pulling a trigger. I'd picked it up easily enough, and even though everyone else had always acted impressed by my ability with a pistol, I'd known all along, deep inside, that I was the weakling I'd always been, and in a true fight, I'd get my ass kicked. Now here I was, waving guns in people's faces, slowly becoming one of the bullies I'd told myself I wanted to defeat.

Momo's terrified face flashed before my eyes. He had really thought I would shoot him. At the moment, that hadn't occurred to me, and whether I would have actually pulled the trigger or not barely mattered. I could have pulled it by mistake and he'd be dead right now.

Staggering against the nearest wall, I stood there a moment, head going around, trying to catch my breath. _What is wrong with me…? Do I really think I can solve the case this way? By myself?_

I was way more likely to get killed.

 _That's why Aizawa took me off the case—he was worried about what I might do. Ide told me that._

More importantly, this was why Aizawa put me in protective custody.

On the night he'd told me I was suspended, I'd headed for the door, thinking I'd just go home, shower, and catch some sleep, and then keep investigating on my own, but he'd gotten in my way and said, "You're staying here."

"You can't do that," I'd told him, so angry I'd been ready to tear my own hair out. "You can suspend me, you _can't_ kidnap me."

Stone cold serious, he'd replied, "I can if I think you're a danger to yourself or others."

At the time, I'd been annoyed that he'd obviously taken my thoughts about deserving to live or not the wrong way and was afraid I was suicidal, but now that I was out here on my own, risking my life, sticking guns in peoples' faces, and getting suspects killed, I realized Aizawa thought I was a loose cannon too.

Not knowing what else to do, I checked into the first dirty motel I came to, flopped down on the bed, still wearing soaked clothes.

I lay there a long time, trying to control my breathing and wondering what to do, but the more I thought about it, the more it seemed like Aizawa could be right.

In the morning, I decided, I would call him and let him come pick me up; and I wouldn't argue with him as he ripped my head off. I'd let him put me in protective custody if he wanted. I'd done my part, I'd figured out what kind of detective I was, and now I was more than willing to sit back and wait for this whole nightmare to blow over.

Far away, the giant fans creak, grinding and grinding, melting into a high-pitched ringing that screams constantly through my head, and Light's dying voice clatters over everything, drowned out by gunshots.

 _I'll kill him_ , I say over and over, mechanically, _I'll kill him, I'll kill him,_ and toss my head against the pillow, hardly able to twitch a finger.

Through trembling lashes, I see the unlit motel room, where I've been abandoned to darkness, but scarlet seeps from the wall. I feel it drenching me, and I taste copper.

 _I must be dreaming_. I try to kick, try to wake up, but my body won't move.

Bars of light slant across the room; a car engine rumbles outside, parked, watching. It's them. They're here to kill me, and I can't move.

Shallow breathing rattles from my chest. I want to call out to someone, but I gave up that right when I ran away from Ide.

The door bursts open, clattering against the screaming pitch of the whining fans; the masked Reaper steps in, dead eyes on me, jagged mouth open to suck me in, and I can already feel his teeth tearing through me. Blood drips from the knife in his hand.

 _I'm just dreaming. I know I'm dreaming._

 _Why can't I wake up?_

He stands over me, knife raised, and the bloodied blade grins.

My body jerks and my eyes roll; I think I hear my voice begging, _God, no. No, don't!_ but I can't tell if it's real.

Corpses drop from the ceiling—L, Soichiro, and Misa, Aizawa, Ide and Mogi. Even Atashi Rei. Some of them are still kicking, fighting to live. Through flashes of pale light, I see their crimson-streaked faces and vacant eyes.

 _I have to wake up now!_

Inside my chest, a desperate cry claws its way up, but I can't move, and Light is standing in the corner, fair-skinned as an angel, eyes glowing red, chanting, "Everything I did, I did for them, for you, for the world," as he scratches my name out in his own blood.

 _If I had it to do over again, I wouldn't side with Near! I'd listen to you!_

I feel the gun in my grip, cool and smooth, but I can't lift it.

"Liar." Light smiles at me. "Matsuda, you liar."

Flashing, the Reaper's blade falls, stabbing straight through me into the mattress, puncturing my lungs, tearing through the tight muscles of my stomach like fresh-baked bread, piercing my heart again and again until my own blood drowns me.

Gasping for breath, I came to face down in the damp pillow, and my body shuddered with the cold feeling of my wet clothes still wrapped around my skin, and my stomach felt sick.

Still panicked, wanting to scream, I sat up and stared toward the window, realizing headlights flooded the room.

 _That part's real._ I touched myself all over, terrified that I might find knife wounds, and sobs tightened my chest.

 _That part's not. I'm okay. I'm okay._

Groaning and still shaking all over, I checked the time, but I'd only been asleep a few hours.

My face felt hot, feverish from wandering in the rain and not sleeping enough.

Someone pounded on the door, and I jerked toward the door, barely strangling a shout, and expecting the Reaper or even Light himself to walk in.

 _Don't be crazy. No one knows where you are…_

Still disoriented, I fumbled for my phone and turned it back on, only to find I'd missed a number of calls, and even though I hadn't committed many numbers to memory, I did recognize Aizawa's number, along with what I thought were Ide, Mogi, and Sayu's.

She must have given them my phone number. But that still didn't mean they'd know where to find me.

After the dream I'd just had, I'd give anything to see a friendly face, but it could just as easily be Hiro Miyami standing out there.

 _Don't answer it…_

Holding Ide's gun close at my side, I slipped to the door, just as the knocking sounded again.

A woman's voice called, "Police—open up."

They must have found me after all. Just as well.

Stupidly, I stared down at the gun in my hand. If they caught me with it but not my badge, I'd be in a ton of trouble, but at least I knew a female officer probably wouldn't frisk me, so I stuffed it into the back of my jeans and then fumbled with the lock, "Jus-just a minute!"

 _This could be a trap._

Not sure if I cared, I thrust the door open, only to find Yoko, soggy from the rain, eyes already boring into me like she'd known all along I was here.

"Yoko?" I glanced out at her cruiser to see who was with her, but she was alone. "What are you doing here?"

"I got a tip that you were in the area," she explained. "At least, someone said that a guy matching your description had a gun in a bar near here."

I guess the patrons at Yama's really had called the police. "Yeah, but how'd you know I was _here_?"

"Just a hunch." Yoko shrugged. "I asked the clerk about you; she said you were in this room."

I studied her, surprisingly tempted to throw my arms around her and break down simply out of some desperate desire to feel a gentle touch.

Shortly, she explained, "I've been looking for you all day—most of us have—Aizawa has been frantic about finding you ever since he saw you at Chiyoda station this morning."

Lowering my eyes, I mumbled, "I wasn't anywhere near Chiyoda station."

"Right. Anyway, everyone has been worried, and it's been a huge waste of time to have people out looking for _you_ when we should be looking for our suspect."

My face burned all the more fiercely. "Yeah… Sorry…"

"Hey." She shrugged. "You're doing what you think you need to do—Captain Aizawa's the one wasting manpower. And time."

Again, I looked at her cruiser. "Are you by yourself? I thought you guys weren't supposed to be working alone."

"No." She lowered her voice and lingered over that word a moment, gaze dropping. "Something happened today," she whispered. "Captain Okoshi was killed, along with two other officers."

My mouth dropped open. "Okoshi is dead? When? _How_?"

She met my gaze again, pausing, like there was something she didn't want to say, but then she went on. "He went with Aizawa and a couple other officers who were helping us to investigate at Chiyoda station about a report of a man with a gun. There weren't enough of them. Okoshi and the other two were killed—hollow points, like the rest of them, but no message."

I thought back to that moment of racing up the stairs and bursting back into the sunlight, just as the cruisers pulled in. I hadn't realized Okoshi was there. I hadn't realized he was going to get killed. If I hadn't arranged that meeting with Rei though, he would still be alive.

"Luckily," she went on, "Aizawa happened to be chasing down some kid he thought looked like you and didn't even go into the station—if he had, I'm sure he would have died too."

 _That was me_ , I realized, with an icy wash of shock, followed by an overwhelming sense of relief. It wasn't like I'd saved his life, but I was suddenly glad he'd chosen to chase me and waste manpower trying to get me back.

None of that changed the fact that three officers had died today when they shouldn't have.

At last, I murmured, "I'm glad Aizawa is okay…" even as the dream tried to force its way into my head again, that horrifying image of my friends dying in front of me.

Wincing, I forced it away.

"Sure, we all are." She looked me up and down, intently. "Now tell me what you're doing here, Matsu."

"Just lying low…" I made myself crack a grin.

"Going into a bar and waving a gun around doesn't sound like lying low to me."

"No… I guess not."

"You should come back with me before the others lose their heads. Maybe you'll have a chance of getting back on the investigation now that we're more short-handed than ever."

I wanted to see my friends, I wanted to see Sayu—one day on my own, and I felt completely broken—but if I went back to them now, they'd just say I told you so and lock me up forever; I was so close to finding Miyami…

"I'm not sure I'm ready to go back," I told her quietly. "Even though…I guess…you're probably not gonna give me the option."

Yoko shrugged. "You're not a baby—you're obviously okay—and you seem to be handling the situation all right on your own."

Surprised, I asked, "You think I should stay out here and keep investigating?"

She smiled wryly. "Oh, you're not investigating though. You're lying low."

"Right…"

"Unless you want to go with me, I can just forget I saw you."

How could she actually mean that? After all, if she was under orders to find me, and Aizawa ever found out she'd let me go, he'd be furious, probably even write her up for insubordination.

Suddenly, Yoko commented, "You look like you could use a drink."

Half-drenched, muddy, sleepless, starving—I probably looked horrible.

"You're supposed to be investigating though… Your leads."

"I came over here to find _you_ , remember. Mission accomplished. We can stop for a drink, and in the meantime, you work on deciding what you're gonna do next."

A drink really did sound good, and company sounded even better. At last, I nodded and closed the door behind me. "Fine. I'll go get a drink with you, just as long as you promise not to call Aizawa until I've made up my mind."

Linking her arm through mine, she led the way to the cruiser. "I wouldn't dream of it."

It felt so good and comforting to be touched, I couldn't help finding her hand and holding onto it with all my might. 

* * *

**Yoko**

Matsuda looked pretty dismal, as if he'd been out in the rain and hadn't been sleeping well, glassy-eyed and flush-faced, and I knew better than to believe he was lying low. Obviously, if he was wandering the city alone, threatening suspects and turning up at crime scenes, he didn't feel like he needed protection, but being so social, I doubted he really enjoyed being alone during a crisis.

As I drove, I watched him bite his lip and gaze out the window, trying to make sense of the half-disturbed expression he'd had on since he answered the door, and I wondered if he was blaming himself for all this. Plenty of other people would if they understood his involvement.

Hard to believe, even now that Aizawa had confirmed it, that this delicate, deeply sensitive man had shot and killed anybody. Perhaps I was merely feeding my own suspicions.

Growing up, I'd spent some of my high school years hanging around with bosozoku gangs, and so I'd never had much respect for guns, but I doubted Matsuda had the physical prowess for any honorable fighting. The method of killing fit; it was just hard to imagine why.

The only two explanations I could come up with were that the task force had either been in danger—in which case, I supposed Matsuda _could_ act, but I still wouldn't expect him to be the big hero—or his turbulent emotions had gotten the better of him. Based on the way he'd been acting ever since, it really raised a lot of questions. In fact, I felt stupid for not guessing it was him to begin with.

Apparently, he wasn't handling it very well, regardless of the details. One day out here on his own, and he'd been even more drastically transformed, from a heartsome investigator chasing facts with unwavering optimism, to a sullen, lone wolf, unhappily separated from his pack, and I realized he probably needed emotional connections and attention much more than he let on.

Maybe, despite what I'd said, I should take him in. It looked like Aizawa had been right after all, and Matsuda really would be better off in detainment.

No matter what feelings of compassion tugged at my heart, running into him was a rare stroke of luck for me. If he was desperate for company, I might be able to get past his barriers and find the information I needed. As soon as I was done with that, I could focus one-hundred percent on the investigation and stop thinking about my annoying little side job.

"Is there any place in particular you want to go, or shall I pick?" I asked casually.

Pausing, Matsuda tilted his head and looked at me as if he'd forgotten he was with someone. "What? Sorry, I was thinking."

A smile tugged at my mouth. There was something strangely attractive about the tormented look on his face. "You must have a lot on your mind."

"Yeah," he sighed. "I guess."

"After all, you only had two weeks off after the Kira investigation ended, didn't you? It doesn't seem quite fair."

Again, Matsuda didn't answer, but I knew from the sudden stiffness in his shoulders that he was listening to me this time.

"The commissioner can be a bit cold, I suppose. You all put your lives on the line; you'd think he could have given you more time, especially since Light—"

Voice frigid, he cut in, "Could we not talk about that?" and I knew I'd hit a nerve.

"Of course," I said with the appropriate level of sheepishness. "I'm sorry." After that, we were quiet, and I thought. Did he not want to talk about Light simply because it was a painful memory of losing a friend, or could there be more to it than that?

Now that I knew about the so-called death note, I knew Matsuda hadn't actually killed Kira. As absurd as that all sounded, none of the officers the NPA was ready to sacrifice to the Reaper were responsible for Kira's death, and yet they were all four determined to hide what they knew. To me, it seemed as if revealing the whole truth was the only way for them to get out of this mess. At least if the rest of the force knew more about Kira and what happened to him, including the business with the notebook, they might be more willing to stand by their comrades and help apprehend this terrorist.

With any luck, Matsuda would tell me something to make that possible.

Hard to believe all of this had started over a killer pad of stationary. Sometimes, I'd almost prefer to believe someone as gentle and easygoing as Matsuda had killed Kira, but it was difficult to come up with another plausible way for all the deaths Kira had caused. If he didn't have a notebook, he would have had some other kind of power.

"The notebook," I said as I pulled up outside of one of my favorite bars. "I would have been interested in seeing it. What was it like?"

Matsuda shrugged. "Just a normal notebook like a student would carry."

"And the shinigami? What was its name?"

"Ryuuk." Matsuda looked a bit uncomfortable as he stepped out of the car, pausing to take a careful look around at the bar and the parking lot and the adjoining streets. "You would think he was a monster if you saw him. They weren't human-looking."

I got out also. "Do you think it's a coincidence that the man we're after now is calling himself the shinigami and the reaper? Even Kira was a play on words with the English word killer, wasn't it?"

"I don't know. It's gotta be a coincidence," he decided, not sounding very sure. "He doesn't have the same power Kira had…" And then his voice dropped to a murmur, "Maybe they're just the same kind of sick."

That seemed true, I thought, as we stepped into the bar. Both Kira and the Reaper were interested in punishing people who they thought had committed crimes, even if they were only crimes against them, and it was clear the Reaper wanted to follow in Kira's footsteps, even if it was a different way and for a different reason.

Hopefully soon, we could put an end to all of it. More and more, I got the feeling that, for the task force, the Kira investigation wouldn't truly be over until we settled this.

For a Monday, my bar was appropriately slow, but the music was loud and the lights were dim. Couples danced in the middle of the room, and as usual, watching their tender smiles and gentle touches made me feel lonely.

Automatically, I offered Matsuda my hand, if only to enjoy the fact that I had male company right now, and he squeezed it tightly, just as he had outside the motel.

We sat down at the bar and had our drinks within a matter of moments.

Matsuda chugged his beer with the air of a college kid desperate to get drunk at an awkward house party, and I watched him in surprise.

"I didn't take you for much of a drinker," I told him.

"Sure, I like it okay." He eyed my untouched screwdriver. "Aren't you on duty?"

"A drink or two won't hurt," I told him with a small smile. "I'm _not_ much of a drinker."

Fidgeting with his beer, Matsuda gazed across the room, still looking troubled and inexplicably sexy to me in his messy hair and muddy blue jeans. "Have you guys found anything out about Miyami yet?" he asked after several minutes of silence.

"Not very much," I told him. "He's impossible to find."

"Yeah," Matsuda agreed, finishing his beer and immediately ordering another. "I don't have any idea where to start."

"If he knows who you are," I said carefully, "you may not have any chance of finding him alone."

Anyway, I didn't want him to find Miyami, I decided. I got the feeling that if he did, he'd get hurt.

To that, he merely nodded and took another large gulp.

A couple hours passed in that bar. Occasionally, I reminded myself that I should go home and try to get some sleep, so I could be at my best tomorrow. I told myself that my secret assignment was nowhere near as important as the actual case, but then again, the situation was ideal: alone with Matsuda somewhere no one was going to find us, and him steadily drinking himself to utter inebriation. There would never be a better opportunity to pick his brain.

I started out slowly; while he was relatively sober, I stuck to discussing the case and other work-related subjects. When he'd gotten a bit buzzed, I switched to talking about social life, and then to family. I was surprised to learn that he wasn't close to any of his family now. His father had passed away a few years ago, and he'd hardly seen his mother at all since Kira emerged. He had two older sisters who were, according to him, much more successful than he was, and it had been years since he'd seen either of them too. The more he talked about his family, the more I got the impression he'd been something of a disappointment to his parents. He didn't seem to have many friends either—he talked as if the Kira investigation had killed off most of the relationships he'd had with anyone he knew before the academy—and he didn't seem to believe he had the respect of any of his fellow officers. I never would have expected to discover such a lonely life concealed behind his cheery demeanor, and it made me feel bad for him. The more he talked, the more I got the feeling the Kira investigation had dictated the last six years of his life and potentially destroyed it.

In the entire time we were there, I only had two drinks, and I sipped them slowly, watching him kick back beer after beer until it was obvious he wanted to get plastered.

"Maybe you've had trouble keeping friends because you and the other three have stopped trusting most people outside your circle," I pointed out. After all, even though Okoshi, Kei, Chiba, and I had all volunteered to help them and hadn't dropped out of the investigation yet, I could tell they expected us to abandon or even betray them. I'd seen it in the way they looked at us the day the Reaper gave his ultimatum: they didn't think anyone would help them.

"Yeah," he agreed with another swig. "It's tough, y'know. Nobody wanted to help us catch Kira."

"This isn't Kira though."

He nodded. "Still. You saw the way the NPA's actin'. They're not really on our side."

I couldn't help touching his hand. "Some of us are."

"Yeah." Matsuda nodded again. "I'm sorry about Okoshi. He was a good man."

I raised my drink. "To Captain Okoshi."

He tapped his bottle to my glass. "To Okoshi." And then he downed the rest and ordered another.

At last, when he seemed good and drunk, I ventured to ask, "What was it like anyway? Working on the Kira case."

Sloshing his beer, Matsuda laughed. "Aw, God, it was _great_. L built this freakin _skyscraper_ w'th all these tricked out rooms—like our own pers'nal hotel or somethin'. We all jus' hung out all day long." He drained his latest beer and asked for another.

With raised eyebrows, the bartender looked at me as if to ask what I thought, but I smiled and said, "It's his twenty-fifth birthday," just to see if he'd believe me.

Immediately, the man smiled back, nodded, and got another beer.

"Twen'y-five?" Matsuda squawked. "Ha! Do I look twen'y-five, Yoki? Whoo… Don' feel twen'y-five anymore…"

"Wait until tomorrow."

"An'way, an'way, 'bout the case. Um…it was great. Got all close with Ai an' Motchi an' Taniki-tan, an' ev'ryone. I love those guys." He laughed. "Hangin' out with Misa-Misa was a blast. Light, too. God, I love those guys."

I should have known he'd be a silly drunk, laughing about everything and confessing his deeply concealed love for his dour, male friends.

"It was serious though, right? You guys didn't just play the whole time."

"Oh, yeah." He sat up straight and made a half-assed attempt at looking serious, but a mischievous simper played around his mouth. " _Real_ serious. Ev'ry day it was like _Matsuda_ , if you're scared ta die ya shoul' jus' leave, an' I was all like, nah, I'm stayin'. We were livin' on the edge, y'know?" For a second, the mirth seemed to ebb away. "Guess…that's why the Chief, an' L, an' Misa're all dead… Ligh' too… Didn't know I was gonna lose so many frien's when I started…"

"It must be hard."

He turned his beer around and around on the bar before taking another gulp. "Death sucks."

"I wouldn't know. I've never lost anyone."

He gave me a wide-eyed look. " _Never_?"

"Grandparents… I was never close with them. I know it's not the same."

"Ah, yeah, my gran'parent's are dead too… But I'm too easy goin' ta get all…sad o'er stuff like that."

I smiled. "You do seem resilient."

"Yeah." His gaze fell to the counter, searching for something in its polished surface. "'Cept maybe this time… This time I think…I'm gonna get sad… Migh' be sad a long, long time."

Recognizing my opportunity, I asked, "Was Light that important to you?"

"Naw." He shook his head. "Naw. Not Ligh… I mean, don' get me wrong, Yoki… I liked Ligh' a _lot_. He was a fun kid. Smart, an' cool, an' nice, an'…an' just _fun_ ta be with… But I coul' get over his dyin' if I hadn't…"

I waited patiently for him to finish, but Matsuda suddenly grinned and laughed again, sliding his fingers back through his hair. "Man. I'm an idiot… If Ai were here he'd prolly hit me for sayin' so much."

I dwelled on the frustration of feeling like he hadn't told me anything at all, but commented, "I've never seen Aizawa hit you."

"He don'. He's never… But he prolly would this time…" He mumbled, "No one's s'posed ta know…"

Some deep, dark secret, then. The Shuichi Aizawa I knew damn near kicked me off this all-important case for suggesting Matsuda wasn't worth looking for; he'd broken various protocols by suspending him, taking his badge, and detaining him. Clearly, his main objective in all of this was to protect Matsuda, but I wondered if there wasn't something even more important lurking beneath that.

Some silence passed, and I had to accept that I wouldn't get anywhere going that route, so I backtracked. "Well, if you're not hung up on Light's death, why do you think you're having such a hard time moving on from the Kira case?"

Matsuda shrugged. If he were sober he might have recognized the question as being baited. "S'all jus' so much at once… So'chiro dyin' was rough. He was like my dad a lil'. Not a lot, y'know, but…he was there for me sometimes… An' then Ligh' was murdered righ' after that. Now Misa-Misa… Jus' more'n I can handle, I guess."

"I understand." As I touched his shoulder, my sympathy was genuine, and I felt bad that I had to use him like this. "It can't be easy."

"'S'not," he informed me, drinking more, but it looked like he was finally slowing down. "An'way, 's why I gotta get _this_ case in th' bag. If an'more of my frien's die… If somethin' happened an' they were gone…" Matsuda whispered, "I dunno what I'd do."

I'd never felt attached like that to any of my friends, let alone coworkers, and I couldn't help feeling a little bit jealous. "I think we're close to solving it, thanks to you."

"Me?"

"Yeah. Everything you've found out has been helpful. It can't be much longer."

"Oh. Righ'." He stared across the room, some dark emotions blocking the light that had been there moments ago. "So…wha' 'bout you, Yoki. Got like a boyfrien' or something?"

"No," I answered, a bit reluctantly. I didn't care to talk about my personal life. "I'm between."

"You're not gay or something?"

I laughed. How many times had people asked me that? "Do I seem like a lesbian?"

"Nah." He grinned. "You're real pretty."

"And lesbians can't be pretty?" I teased, thinking it was good to take a break from my questioning. It was best for this to seem like a casual night at the bar.

"Dunno. I've ne'r seen one. I got no gay-dar. Don't know 'em when I see 'em."

Shaking my head lightly, I giggled. "Matsu, you're silly."

His smile turned sheepish. "Kinda, huh?"

"What about you? I heard about the medic thinking you and Aizawa were together."

His already flushed face turned so pink I had to laugh again, and he looked at me, almost frantically. "No way—Ai's married with kids an' ev'rythin'."

"Well, what if he weren't? He's kind of a hot, older guy. He'd keep you in line."

Matsuda set his mouth in a firm line and shook his head. "'M straight."

"Well, we have that in common."

Our eyes met.

For the first time, I was aware of how close together we were sitting, how his elbow on the counter touched my own, and I felt his breath on my cheeks and smelled the booze on his lips. I couldn't help admiring his boyish face and his deep eyes.

 _No… Stop thinking like that. I'm on a mission—this is a coworker—don't even think about it._

But I felt my body work against my will, leaning in closer until our noses brushed, and I parted my lips, automatically going in for the kill.

Our mouths had only just met when Matsuda suddenly turned away, slapping the counter. "Bar keep. Again, please."

With a sigh, I drew back, listening as the bartender opened a new beer with a crack and Matsuda kept drinking. It was better this way. Getting involved with him, no matter how briefly, would be foolish.

Then again, it could open up new avenues for me to obtain information.

It didn't sound very honorable when I thought about it that way.

"I'm sorry," I said when we'd been quiet a few minutes, not looking at him.

"Never min'. I felt it too."

"You're with Sayu, aren't you?"

"Um. No…" His voice hinted at some confusion. "I'm…we're… No. We're frien's…"

"Kei told me about the way she looks at you. I don't think she wants to be just friends." I had no basis for saying that. I didn't even know why I would tell him something like that. It had nothing to do with my mission.

"Sure, but..." For some reason, he whispered, "She's 'motional though. After Ligh' an' So'chiro dyin'…I think she jus' wants a shoul'er ta cry on."

"There's nothing wrong with that." I looked at him again. "Isn't that what you want?"

Again, he simply gazed down into the bar, studying his own reflection, his eyes hidden behind his curtain of shaggy hair. I fought the urge to brush it away. "I don't know…what I want…" he admitted in such a guilty, sad way, I didn't have the heart to ask any more questions about Light or Kira.

Instead, I offered to take him back to the motel. He hadn't made up his mind about what to do, and in this condition, it would be cake to drive him straight to Aizawa. I didn't have the heart to do that either, especially since, I realized, hiding out in Light's old apartment must be emotionally taxing for him.

Cheerful once again, he agreed, and we left the bar, me doing my best to support him as he stumbled out into the parking lot, singing an old folk song and encouraging me to join in. I wasn't much of a singer though, and I didn't feel very upbeat by that point.

After I got him in the car, he more or less passed out, and when I pulled up in front of his room I had to shake him a few times to wake him up. I half-dragged him into the motel, and he bumped a table, knocking over a small clock, laughing hysterically. I stripped off his coat, and he flopped down on the bed, still singing quietly as I got his shoes off.

"Cra-azy night," he said while I was pulling the blankets up to his chest. "Haven't been _this_ drunk since…ever."

"Yeah, you must really be depressed. Have you thought about talking to a counselor?"

Based on what I'd seen tonight, there was a lot going on in his mind that he probably needed to discuss with someone before he could completely move on, but Matsuda just laughed like the idea was ridiculous. "Nah. I'll be okay."

Sighing, I sat down on the edge of the bed. "I think you drained my credit card."

"Sorry." He grinned, face looking warmer than ever.

"It's my own fault." I laid my hand on his forehead, trying to determine if that warmth came from drinking or fever.

Sleepily, Matsuda looked up into my eyes, and I felt that almost unapproachable desire to kiss him surface once again.

"Thanks, Yoko," he whispered.

"For what, Honey?"

"Takin' me out like this… I really needed it."

Originally, I'd gotten onto this investigation because I felt sure it would get me closer to the taskforce, but I'd made a mistake, because in getting to know these men, I felt guiltier and guiltier over my secret mission, and it was hard not to let feelings of camaraderie or affection interfere. "Don't mention it."

Sighing quietly, he closed his eyes. "You're right, prolly. 'Bout me bein' d'pressed."

"It isn't your fault. You lost someone you cared about—we can all understand that."

Matsuda shook his head, lank hair falling into his eyes again. "It's not that. I mean, I liked Ligh', but we _weren't_ tha' close. I think 'm like this…'cause…" there followed such a maddeningly long pause, I thought he might have passed out.

"Matsuda?" I gripped his hand, leaning over him.

"Sorry," he choked out, "Just. 'Cause…I'm th' one…who shot 'im."

My chest clenched with disbelief. "What do you mean? Kira?"

"Light."

"I thought Kira killed Light."

"No…" His voice had turned rough, like he could barely speak. "No… Kira… _was_ Light…"


	15. Chapter 15

**Ide**

All morning, it drizzled, and as lethargic and distracted as it made me feel, Aizawa seemed all the tenser. Since Matsuda went missing, he'd been going non-stop, alternating between trying to solve the case and looking for our missing detective, and at this rate, I expected him to have a nervous breakdown.

As dawn began to break, we stopped and had a short breakfast, but Aizawa didn't want to stay in one place for too long, and currently we were on our way to the station. Lately, any time we showed our faces, the other officers tried to lynch us, but there were only five of us left on the team, and we had to work as hard as we could to find any possible resources.

Losing Okoshi had been an unexpectedly difficult blow; even though he wasn't in charge of the team, his experience and wisdom had been paramount to our success, Aizawa had relied on him for guidance, and without him, our team felt more scattered and hopeless than ever.

As with Chiba, we couldn't even afford to take a day or two off to cope with the loss.

We pulled up in front of the building and sat there a moment. Aizawa rubbed the bridge of his nose, yawning and sipping his coffee.

"Maybe you should go home," I told him, not for the first time. "Isn't Eriko worried?"

He muttered an indecipherable answer that sounded a lot like, "she's mad at me".

"So mad she doesn't even want to see you?"

"I don't know."

"Shuichi," I dared to sound somewhat firm. "You have to go home some time. It's not fair to her."

Eyes flashing, he turned to me. "I can't go home until I know Matsu's okay. Eriko understands that."

"Does she?"

"Yes," he snapped. "She doesn't like it, no, but she agreed I should do everything I can to find that idiot before something happens to him. Now stay out of my marriage, Lieutenant." All but kicking his car door open, he stalked toward the entrance to the station, turning his collar up against the cold.

I hurried after him, still determined to try and talk sense into him. "I know you're worried about Matsuda, but people saw him last night. That means he's probably alive."

"It doesn't sound like Matsuda," he grumbled. "Running around pulling guns on people, acting crazy. We don't know for sure that it was him."

"What then? Some evil twin?" I scoffed. "C'mon, the description matched perfectly. That damn expensive jacket—"

"There's more than one Wacko Maria jacket in Tokyo."

"—waving a nine-millimeter pistol around, fifty kilos, one-seventy-five centimeters—"

"Assuming it _was_ him," Aizawa interrupted sharply, "it just means he's in a lot of trouble."

If nothing else, Matsuda could go to jail for misusing his weapon, and it wouldn't be a short sentence either. Clearly, he hadn't thought about that, or else he didn't care at all, and that did hint at how out of control he was now.

Aizawa went on, harshly, "This is why I had him detained in the first place, remember? Right now, he's a danger to others and himself _._ So, excuse me if I don't feel inclined to rest until I know where he is."

I considered sharing with him my fears about the possibility of him having a breakdown, but I knew he'd only brush it off.

"You have four other perfectly capable investigators," I told him, not without some frustration of my own. "There's no reason to push yourself like this."

He stopped by the door to glare at me. "When's the last time _you_ went home, Ide?"

"I don't have a family waiting for me."

Aizawa seemed to think that over a moment. Maybe he didn't consider it all the time, the fact that no one else had a family to wait up and worry over them. The Kira investigation had attracted men who didn't have much to lose or many people to let down, and I knew that Mogi and I spending more than a week without going to our own houses wasn't the same as Aizawa going two or three days without seeing his wife and kids.

Of course, everyone was pushing themselves just as hard as him; I felt tired in every bone in my body, exhausted from the sting in my eyes to the ache in my back, and the lack of rest was hard on me. But, I didn't think anyone was taking this disaster as hard as Aizawa was.

"I'm going to go home as soon as I can," he announced suddenly.

"You can go home any time you want," I reminded him.

"Don't you think I want to go home? Don't you think I miss my family? Dammit, Ide, Matsuda could be _dead_!"

When I remembered the day Matsuda took off, all I could think of was the hard glint in his eyes just before he shut the bathroom door in my face, and I wanted to believe that determination would keep him alive, but then again, Aizawa's concerns were far from unfounded. We'd tried to keep him off the Misa case—something a thousand times less dangerous—because we were afraid of his emotional condition. As much as I didn't want to think about it, Matsuda might be dead already; why not? If he was actually at Yama's last night, waving his gun around, who could say with any certainty he hadn't left the bar and gotten shot?

 _Damn. You better not have._

"You're right," I murmured as Aizawa opened the door for me, and I stepped ahead of him. "Getting him back should be your priority…"

If Eriko truly understood that, good, if not, I guess it was just one of the hard realities of life, but either way, I knew Aizawa wasn't going home until he knew where Matsuda was, and having me undermine him was no help.

"When I find him," he muttered back at me, "I am going to clock him so hard."

But I knew he was just venting. Even if we found Matsuda in one piece, I doubted Aizawa would have the heart to as much as yell at him.

Being at the station was eerie. In the early hours, not many people were around, making the building echo with an unnerving silence, and the few who were there gave us nasty looks. I kept a careful eye out for Commissioner Oshima. Even though he hadn't shown much interest in taking action in this situation, I couldn't forget the way he'd approached me after I finally got Aizawa out of the interrogation and hissed in my ear, _It doesn't matter—the truth_ will _come to light. In the meantime, don't forget that Aizawa is a nobody—he's trashed his career by going after Kira, like the rest of you—and let this be a lesson to you how fragile he is."_

Those words had felt so much like a threat, I'd gone to Director Boko to report them, but he'd brushed it off, given me some political assurance that Oshima couldn't do anything, and issued another well-rehearsed, "sorry for the inconvenience." As if he hadn't allowed Oshima to practically kidnap one of his own men. As if they hadn't threatened him with sodium pentothal. As if they hadn't tried to force him to confess to killing Kira.

After speaking with Near, the director seemed reasonably satisfied, but Oshima's words stuck with me, and I knew we didn't have an ally in him. I'd even go so far as to assume he _wanted_ Aizawa to fail or that he might eventually use him as a scapegoat.

As far as other officers went, I understood they were just afraid of something they couldn't control, and they were frustrated with the fact that we had taken the only possibility for control away from them.

It would help if we could catch one of the shooters, but they were careful, keeping to the shadows and appearing briefly to kill lone or even off-duty officers before vanishing again. Half-sarcastically, Aizawa had suggested that officers start traveling in small gangs rather than in pairs.

Witnesses were hard to come by also, as if everyone secretly agreed with this mass killing, and even the people who didn't necessarily have the guts to buy a gun on the black market and start offing cops thought they were doing their part by simply withholding information.

Even if we caught the mastermind, building a case against him seemed impossible.

Meanwhile, more and more officers were resigning from the NPA, leaving the force severely short-handed. I didn't want to think all-out anarchy could emerge from this madness, but when the cowards all ran away, and the brave ones got killed, the NPA would be gone.

 _The military will step in before then_ , I assured myself, but as always, I wasn't so sure.

As we got onto the elevator, Aizawa muttered, "I finally got a hold of Matsuda's mother."

For days, he'd been playing phone tag with her, and I was curious to know what kind of mother failed to call back immediately when an NPA detective contacted her to discuss something serious about her son.

Scowling in disgust, Aizawa grunted, "I'm not surprised he didn't run home to her."

"What did she say?"

He sighed and stared up at the ceiling. "First of all, she just assumed I was calling to tell her he's dead. I'm not sure I ever convinced her he's _not_ dead."

"Well, a lot of cops are dying."

"No. She kept talking about how he never should have joined the NPA, he should have been a florist like his father, what a waste it is, how ashamed she is that he's defying Kira, on and on."

I raised my eyebrows. "That explains a few things."

"You're telling me," he snorted. "Maybe I was just tired, but it almost seemed like she thought dying would serve him right after all the stupid mistakes he's made."

"She can't actually think that."

"No, but she definitely didn't seem too concerned by the fact that he's missing. Well, not even _that_ really. It was more this Kira's will be done, Kira please forgive my wayward son kind of crap."

"Ridiculous," I grumbled as we stepped off the elevator. "Isn't Matsuda her only son?"

"As far as I know. In any case, when we find him it'll be his responsibility to let her know he's okay."

We met Kei in the hallway. Her blonde ponytail swung to and fro, but she didn't have nearly as much energy as she used to, and she kept her lips permanently wrapped around the straw of some blended coffee drink. "Hey, Captain," she greeted, "hey, Taniki-tan."

Even though I'd all but given up on getting anyone to stop calling me that, I winced. It sucked me back to three years ago, sitting at headquarters, trying to stay patient as idiot Matsuda worked on my new nickname, listing every pun, play on words, and nonsensical arrangement of my name's kanji he could think of. Aizawa had suggested Taniki, Matsuda added the tan just to be extra annoying, and I'd sent him to scrub the toilet with his own toothbrush.

Chest tight, I remembered the way he'd grinned at me and hissed, _"Worth it."_

" _He likes you,"_ Aizawa had told me when I'd complained about it. _"How often does_ that _happen?"_

" _Just wait until he gives_ you _a stupid nickname,"_ I'd warned.

But Matsuda had assured us he'd never give _Ai_ a nickname because he was his superior.

Stupid nonsense, all of it, an idiotic distraction amidst a life-changing and crucial criminal case. Over time, though, I guess I had accepted that being Taniki-tan was okay. Just as I'd accepted that Matsuda was more than just an annoying coworker.

 _Something had better not happen to you just because I screwed up._

"Where's Sergeant Mogi?" Aizawa asked, taking a long look up the hall.

Kei explained, "He said he had an errand to run."

Aizawa's brow furrowed. "What kind of errand?"

"He just said it was personal." Taking several gulps of coffee, she glanced between the two of us.

"What good are you without a chaperone?" I sniffed.

She shot back, "If you're so worried about it why don't _you_ chaperone me around?"

"Not right now, you two," Aizawa interrupted. "Did you find anything important last night?"

Her eyes started to sparkle and her pink mouth turned up in an excited smile. I had to admit, as obnoxious as she was, she was a really pretty girl. "As a matter of fact, we did."

Both of us watched her intensely. One good thing had come out of the supposed Matsuda sighting last night. Assuming it _was_ Matsuda, he had been spotted at Yama's bar, and it was uncanny the way this case seemed to revolve around that place. For one thing, Rei had frequented it a _lot_. His entire staff at the manor seemed grief-stricken over his death, and they'd been as helpful as possible. One of them had mentioned that she found it odd that Rei liked to go to such a divey place when it directly conflicted with his otherwise fancy tastes. She made it sound like there _could_ be something to it. Like maybe old Atashi Rei was meeting some less than reputable people there.

But as a forger, some of his clients were bound to be shady.

Of course, when someone who looked like Matsuda was reported as having been seen there last night, Aizawa sent Mogi and Kei to investigate one more time, because if Matsuda had gone in there, threatening the bartender, there must be something to it. There _must_ be something we could find there.

Unless Matsuda was just desperate and acting stupid.

Assuming it was Matsuda at all.

"What was it?" Aizawa prompted impatiently.

Kei giggled, like his annoyance was amusing to her. "It's huge. You're really gonna flip."

"Not if you never tell us what it is," I grumbled.

With a wink at me, she went on suddenly, "Well, we couldn't get much out of the bartender—he wouldn't even admit that Matsuda had been there, even though the customers we talked to confirmed it—he was _really_ stubborn."

"Wait, so you're sure it was Matsuda?" Aizawa asked, brow creasing at the thought.

"Oh, yeah," Kei agreed with a nod. "Definitely Matsuda. He mentioned being a cop several times, and the witnesses said the bartender called him by name. Mogi said the description was perfect."

Aizawa exchanged a look with me, and I read the worry in his eyes.

Meanwhile, Kei went on. "So the bartender wasn't much help, but while we were there this other guy came up and started talking to us. At first, it seemed like he was just curious; he kept asking questions about who we were and who we worked with and this and that about our investigation. It really made us both nervous. Then, just when Mogi was about to tell him to leave us alone, he says he has some information about Nishi Yamaguchi!"

She said it so excitedly and brightly you'd think the case was solved, but Aizawa and I exchanged a skeptical look. "Really?" I wondered. "That guy who seems like he completely disappeared from the face of the earth?"

Kei grinned viciously at me. "I knew you'd be that way, Taniki-tan. Anyway, we were suspicious also, but we went outside with him—he acted like he really couldn't talk while we were in the bar, and he was super nervous the whole time."

"So what did he tell you?" Aizawa demanded. "Are you sure this is the short version of this story?"

"I never said it was the short version," she said with a laugh. "But he did tell us that Nishi Yamaguchi was the bartender at Yama's up until about two weeks ago. He said one night he just disappeared—went upstairs for a little bit…" Her voice dropped to an eerie tone, "and never came down."

Again, Aizawa and I looked at one another. "So _that_ was the bar Yamaguchi worked at," I muttered, feeling almost sick to my stomach when I realized that could have easily been the information that got Chiba killed.

"Why wouldn't anyone tell us that?" Aizawa wondered. "Do people distrust the cops _that_ much?"

"Aizawa… Two weeks ago… That was when those two men were found dead in the alley."

"Then it sounds like Yamaguchi had to be our shooter, just like we thought." He turned to Kei again. "What about the man who supplied this information? Did you bring him in for questioning?"

"He volunteered!" Kei announced. "He specifically wanted to talk with _you_ , Captain."

Looking more confused than ever, Aizawa frowned at me. "Who the hell is this guy, and where did he come from?"

"It could be a trap," I said anxiously.

"Oh, Hide," Kei scoffed, sucking down more coffee until the cup gurgled like she'd reached the bottom. "You think everything is a trap."

" _Hide_?" I turned on her, warmth flooding my neck and face. "Did you call me _Hide_? That does it! I'm your superior, and I demand respect. From now on, you call me Lieutenant Ide, or Ide-san, or even Hideki-san—I don't care—but I'm not going to stand here and listen to you disrespect me."

Kei stifled a giggle and bowed, answering in halting keigo, "My apologies, Lieutenant Hideki Ide-San."

"You little brat—"

"We don't have time for this," Aizawa interrupted giving me a questioning look, like my reaction was strange. "I want to talk to this guy you brought in, Kei."

Flashing me another insolent smile, she skipped ahead of him, ponytail swinging. "'Course, Cap. Right this way."

I scowled after her, still feeling flustered and not sure what to do about it. Just who did she think she was? Matsuda and his dumb nicknames was one thing—he was our idiot—we had to deal with his crap. Not her. Did she think that just because she was beautiful, and young, and _foreign_ she could talk to me however she wanted? She _was_ beautiful and young, but she had to learn that she couldn't get whatever she wanted by acting cute, especially not in a profession like ours. Did she think I was going to treat her special for it? She—

"C'mon, Hide-san," Aizawa broke into my thoughts, grabbing my arm and pulling me along. "Let's see who we're dealing with."

"Don't you dare start calling me that," I snapped, pulling away from him.

"I don't think it's any worse than Aiza-chan."

Endeavoring to compose myself, I straightened my tie. I couldn't let that girl fluster me. "I haven't called you that in more than ten years."

"I'm pretty sure I heard you call me that the other night."

Had I? I didn't remember that, but I guess it _could_ have slipped out. "It was like four o'clock in the morning, wasn't it? I haven't been home in over a week. I was tired. You're my superior, I'm hers, and this isn't the academy."

To my surprise, Aizawa burst out laughing. It had been such a long time since I'd seen him do that—since before Soichiro died at least—it startled me. Ahead of us, Kei glanced over her shoulder, and the few people standing in the hallway stopped what they were doing to stare at him. It wasn't very loud, and it didn't go on very long before he got himself under control again, but at least it lacked the cynicism that polluted most of the things he said these days.

"What's so funny?" I snorted.

"She really got to you." He slammed my shoulder, still grinning. "Can't you tell when a woman's flirting with you, or have you really had that little experience with them?"

"Shut up," I grumbled, lighting a cigarette. Still, I couldn't help looking ahead at Kei. Matsuda had said she liked me, but he was just making fun of me, and it was just madness to think she might have any interest in me. I must be almost fifteen years older than her.

Still Aizawa chuckled and grinned to himself the rest of the way to the interrogation room, and I decided to let it go. It was worth it to see him laugh about something after all this time, so maybe that brat Kei had done something right for once.

She led the way to the detainment room, spun around and bowed again, still speaking keigo. "Well, gentlemen, here we are."

Aizawa and I stepped up to the one-way mirror and looked through to see a young man sitting on the far side of the table, arms folded quietly in front of him. From his average attire—sunglasses perched on top of his simply-cut hair—and his plain face, there wasn't much to distinguish him.

Next to me, Aizawa jerked and his mouth fell open. "That guy. He's the one who grabbed me at the vending machine."

I stared through the dimness of the interrogation cell at the man. "Are you sure?"

"See how boring he is? I told you I couldn't pick him out of a line up." Aizawa rubbed his chin thoughtfully. "He acted like he was Rei's bodyguard."

"He's a tough customer," Kei warned, finally sounding serious. "He wouldn't let us ask a lot of questions—he's determined to talk to you—and, and he wouldn't even tell us his name. He didn't have any ID on him."

I could tell Aizawa was unnerved by this development, but he turned and preceded me into the chilly interrogation room, the echo of our shoes on the floor bouncing off the steel walls.

Immediately, the man at the table sat up even straighter, watching us with sharp eyes.

Aizawa hesitated on the opposite side of the table from him, looking him over intently.

"Captain Aizawa," he said, and his voice was distinct at least, with a vaguely sneering edge to it. "Nice to see you again. My name is Niro Rei."

"Rei?" I echoed.

"That's right, Lieutenant. I'm the only son of the late Atashi Rei. I don't know if you remember me. People normally don't." He flashed a somewhat wicked smile. "That's what makes me good at what I do."

"And what's that?" Aizawa demanded. "Are you some kind of hit man?"

Niro Rei scoffed. "If you're insinuating I had anything to do with the death of Nishi Yamaguchi, or even my father, you're mistaken."

"He didn't say that," I growled. "But _you_ did."

Niro raised an eyebrow as if to say that's true, and his lips curled up again in another somewhat nasty smile. "As a matter of fact, I'm a police officer."

The look Aizawa shot me this time was longer and more bothered than ever. "A police officer?"

"That's right. I patrol in Shinjuku. Maybe we've seen each other before."

It hit me suddenly. That voice…that smirking mouth… I _had_ seen him before. "You were there the day we went to the Shinjuku Prince," I said quickly. "You were that punk who was bitching about us being late."

Niro smiled derisively. "Very good, Lieutenant. And you were the one who warned me that he's my superior." He jerked his chin at Aizawa. "I guess I'm not very good at following orders." He stared my partner down. "I trust you remember me from our meeting at the Kirei Kumotte."

Stiffly, Aizawa nodded. "I didn't forget. Detective Komagata says you have some information for me. I hope it's worth incriminating yourself."

"I hope so too." Niro leaned back, casually. "First things first—I want to make something perfectly clear. I'm no supporter of Kira, but I think it's disgraceful the way you and your team have been going about this investigation."

I growled, " _You're_ the one who's a disgrace, working with criminals and pulling guns on fellow officers."

He gave a heedless shrug. "I did those things because my father asked me to. Outside of them, I've done my best to be a decent officer."

"Your best is shabby," Aizawa told him severely.

Niro just chuckled. "After Kira was apprehended, my father returned to Tokyo from a long stay overseas. My sister told me so, but I made sure to stay away from him. I didn't want his life of crime to have any impact on my career."

"He did contact you though. He must have."

"That's right. Several weeks ago, he managed to get a hold of me and told me he needed my help. He wasn't very clear about it, but he promised it wouldn't be anything that compromised my position as a cop, and he acted like he was afraid for his life. Unfortunately, like my father, I had no idea the job he'd taken on would get so far out of our control." He paused and frowned down at the steel table in front of him. "I have to admit…I'm the one who planted the fake IDs on those men who died at the Shinjuku Prince."

My heart clenched, and I couldn't help snarling, "How is _that_ good police work?"

"Like I said, I didn't know what I was getting into until it was too late. I agreed to help my father as long as he promised not to bother me with his seedy jobs again. All he told me was that I had to be near the hotel that morning so my partner and I could be on the scene first, and that I had to make sure those men were given their IDs." He chuckled to himself, but sardonically. "When I say it all like that, I'm not sure what I was thinking to get involved, and I'm sure there's no way to save myself or my career now. I was the first man in the room, but they were all dead already, and I had just enough time to _issue_ each one their fake ID…" He was quiet for a long moment. "I don't know if you believe any of that," he whispered suddenly.

"You know, now that you mention it," I spoke up. "We originally thought that a fellow officer could have been the shooter in that crime."

Niro frowned, an expression strangely more honest than his smile. "I might think the same thing if I were you; but I have an alibi. I was with my partner at the time of the shooting, and I spoke with dispatch shortly before arriving there. I didn't kill them, but I did leave the evidence to mislead you."

"Didn't it occur to you to report it?" Aizawa demanded. He had his notebook out and was tapping his pen against it over and over.

"Of course, it did," Niro shot back. "What would I have reported though? Like I said, he made it sound like a matter of life or death."

Shaking his head, Aizawa finally jotted something down.

Niro went on slowly. "After that day, Dad was terrified of what would happen to him. He told me over and over that he hadn't had any idea that those men were going to be killed—he insisted he didn't know very much at all about why the IDs had been purchased in the first place, and I could tell he was scared of whoever it was that hired him. He convinced me to act as his bodyguard for a while, and he even convinced me to threaten you, Captain Aizawa, in hopes that we could at least buy time." Sighing, he tilted his head back. "I guess I'm not a very good officer after all. It could be that a life of crime is just…in my blood."

"Oh, _that_ makes sense," I muttered. "So, what are you thinking now? We'll let you off easy because you came forward with this confession?"

Suddenly, he sat up again, eyes meeting mine, burning with ferocity and outrage. "I want to catch the man who had my father murdered."

The way his voice rang, so furious and grief-stricken, I had no problem believing it.

"Ever since the incident at the hotel, the client has had my father wrapped around his finger, warning him not to leave town, telling him to keep quiet. Dad was terrified for his life. And now he's dead. I want to find the bastard responsible and see him brought to justice, even if that means I go to jail for what I did."

"It's going to take a little more than this," Aizawa informed him coldly. "We need all the information we can get, but your testimony isn't exactly helpful so far."

Niro sneered, "My testimony isn't over yet." He clenched one fist on the surface of the table, grinding his teeth. "My father had his vices—privilege and affluence of course—but he always acted like he was Robin Hood, forging documents for people who needed help getting out of bad situations and shit like that. I don't know if I believe that's what he did one-hundred percent of the time—it's obviously not what he did _this_ time—but a lot of people benefited from Atashi Rei's wealth. He gave generously to charity. He funded research to cure diseases. He sent support to orphaned children and refugees in third world countries. Sometimes, I thought it must be an act to keep from seeming suspicious…but, even so, I don't know what any of those people will do without him. I don't know what _I'll_ do without him. Though he was a criminal, he was nothing like this man who had him killed, and he didn't deserve to die."

Plaintively, he looked up at us and spread his hands like he wanted to reach out for help. "I haven't been able to live with what I did or with the knowledge I have. At my father's estate, the entire staff has been so devastated by his loss, they've been looking for anything they could find that might be able to help you, and I've been able to use my resources as an officer to aid them in that."

"What did you find?" Aizawa asked, voice gentler than I expected, and I knew he was feeling sympathetic for the kid.

Niro looked almost grateful for the question. "When I ran the phone records by Dad's butler, Kesetsu-san, he noticed a discrepancy right away. Kesetsu-san knows all of Dad's old contacts: clients, associates, and friends alike. He knew every single name on all the phone records for the past five years, except one."

Suddenly, he pulled out a thumb drive and laid it on the table. "Dad spoke with a man named Jun Utagawa three times this last month, but never before that. The first time Utagawa called was on the twentieth of March. The second time, Dad contacted him—that was the twenty-fourth. The final call took place the day after that, on the twenty-fifth. Utagawa called him just a few hours before Dad was killed."

Niro paused and drew a shuddering breath.

Aizawa wrote furiously on his notepad, nodding to himself.

"I haven't had time to look into who Jun Utagawa might be," Niro explained breathlessly, and he suddenly lowered his eyes. "But…I think he had a hand in what happened to my father." He looked up again suddenly, misty-eyed, and then I couldn't help feeling just a little sympathetic toward him also. "Some of the staff believes your Corporal Matsuda is the one who murdered Dad. Kesetsu-san claims Matsuda-san called the day before my father was killed, and he's convinced that's the best explanation."

"Matsuda wouldn't," Aizawa said, but he didn't sound completely sure.

"I _know_ it isn't true. I was in Chiyoda station that morning. Dad asked me to follow him there in case his meeting with the corporal didn't go well…but I don't think he was ever afraid of Matsuda-san. He kept looking around while they were talking and checking his watch, so I think someone else must have been watching them also. Jun Utagawa maybe. Or somebody worse. I don't know. But I do know Corporal Matsuda didn't shoot him."

"That's a relief," Aizawa said under his breath.

"Unfortunately, I didn't get a good look at the shooters. They were hiding their faces, and…" he shrugged, looking away again. "My father had just been shot in front of me. I didn't have the presence of mind to even go after them."

Aizawa told him gently, "It's probably best that you didn't. We're dealing with a group of people who have no qualms about killing."

"Three of our men were killed that morning," I agreed.

"Yes, I heard about that." Niro nodded. "One of them was Captain Inari Okoshi, wasn't it? We met once. I'm sorry for what happened to him, and I want to catch the people responsible for all of this. I hope you believe me."

"We'll see," Aizawa answered, some of his gruffness coming back. He took the thumb drive from the table, looked at me again and jerked his head toward the door. Single file, we left the interrogation room.

I glanced over my shoulder before closing the door completely. Niro Rei sat there with his head slumped down against his chest, half-hidden by the shadows of the cell, and I couldn't deny he looked completely dejected.

In the hallway, I asked Aizawa, "You really don't believe him?"

"Look at this," he said instead of answering, and showed me the notes he'd been writing, where he'd drawn a timeline, and I could clearly see the dates and events outlined there, even if they were written sloppily.

The twentieth was two days before the drive-by that almost killed Matsuda, the twenty-fourth was the day Matsuda disappeared on me, and the twenty-fifth was the day Rei died.

"I guess this means we can rule out the possibility that Matsuda was just in the wrong place at the wrong time," I grumbled.

"If these dates are correct, it looks like this Jun Utagawa really does have something to do with the case, _and_ with Matsuda."

"Do you think it might even be this Reaper psycho?" I asked, a bit skeptically.

"I'm not sure this Reaper psycho would be that careless, but it wouldn't surprise me to find out Jun Utagawa is connected to him."

"In that case, I'll get started on finding out whatever I can about Utagawa," I announced, taking the thumb drive from him and heading back down the hall.

It looked like we might finally be getting somewhere. I thought I should feel glad about that, but one reoccurring theme in this case was that every time one of us got close to finding something important, they were attacked or killed. As long as the four of us stuck together I wanted to believe we'd be able to watch each other's backs, but we were in danger, and Matsuda was out there on his own. Nobody was watching his back.

 **Matsuda**

My head hurt so bad I thought maybe I'd gotten into another fight, and when I opened my eyes the blazing light from outside made my forehead pound. Moaning, I rolled over and pressed my face into the pillow, struggling to remember what had happened.

Not a fight. Slowly, it came back to me: the bar, the endless rounds of drinks, and Yoko's weird questions.

 _Yoko_. I sat up quickly, feeling my stomach churn; the motel was quiet, the colors soft, but everything looked dirty and even bleaker than they had when I checked in. The bathroom door hung wide open, empty, but the last thing I remembered was Yoko crawling into bed beside me.

 _Did we…?_

No. I'd remember that. I did remember her kissing me right after I…

Panic hit me like a wave of cold water. _I told her about Light!_

Did I dream that?

No.

Fear started racing through my blood stream, and my stomach fluids swirled until I thought for sure I'd throw up all over the edge of the bed.

Biting back the urge to vomit, I curled up again, closing my eyes against the hateful light, murmuring, "Matsuda, you idiot…" and then pulled the blankets over my head, wanting to hide from the world for the rest of my life.

When I woke up again, it was past ten, and my headache had dulled, but my stomach still felt sick. I was so stupid. I'd gotten way too drunk and told Yoko something no one was supposed to ever, ever know.

There was still no sign of her, so obviously she wasn't coming back with breakfast. She probably thought I was completely idiotic.

No investigating for me today. I piled both pillows on top of my head, determined to keep sleeping past my check out time. What good could I do anyway? I was just one man with one gun and a single magazine of bullets, and Yoko had said it herself: there was no way I'd just stumble across the guy I needed to find somewhere in Tokyo. Aizawa and the others would have a way better chance of finding him, and if I called them today, one of them could come get me, and I could share what I'd learned from Rei and Momo. I should have called them last night.

From somewhere in my dreams, Soichiro's voice reminded me, _"Matsuda, it's imperative that we wrap up this case as quickly as possible. There are lives depending on us."_

 _It's no use, Chief. You know I always do more harm than good._

 _"Stop feeling sorry for yourself. You're a disappointment to the NPA—if I were alive today I'd take your badge."_

 _I deserve that… I'm sorry._

 _"After all, what you did to my son was unforgiveable."_

 _I know it was._

 _"It's more than that though. I was counting on you."_

The unfamiliar ring of my phone jerked me out of a delirious sleep, and I sat up, pushing the pillows away and massaging my pounding head.

Soichiro wouldn't have really been counting on me—he'd been way too efficient to need a guy like me to do anything other than bring him coffee.

That was how our relationship started out after all. He'd been working late on some case before the Kira investigation had ever gotten started, and I'd been working graveyards in the station because I was new. I'd poured the last dregs from the coffee pot and taken it to him.

I still remembered his serious eyes looking up at me over his glasses.

 _"Ah, thank you, son."_

 _I'd smiled, trying to make a good impression. "You're welcome, Chief."_

 _After one sip, he'd cleared his throat and then set the cup aside—it was probably really sucky coffee—but he'd leveled all his focus on me. "You're Matsuda, aren't you?"_

 _"That's me." Still smiling. So proud to be talking one on one with the chief for one of the first times in my career. "If you need anything else, just let me know."_

 _Something had flickered in his gaze though, an unexpected warmth I hadn't understood at the time. "Hn. You're quite cheerful for so late at night. I hope you don't take this the wrong way, son, but…you remind me of my daughter."_

 _"Oh." I still remembered the way the smile fell off my face like a rock plummeting to the bottom of the ocean. "Well…I…"_

 _The chief had just chuckled though. "Well, what I mean by that is you have the same sort of attitude as her, I suppose."_

 _I still hadn't known what to say, but he'd stood up, smiling at me, and there had been something in that too, something I felt I'd never gotten from_ my _father. He'd just died a little before that, and I'd never gotten his approval, no matter how much I'd wanted it. And then Soichiro Yagami shook my hand, firmly, and said, "I look forward to working with you, Matsuda," and I knew_ he _approved._

I didn't know if anyone else had ever said that to me. I guess I could see now how Sayu and I may have been similar at the time, and I could even understand how that might make him feel a certain familiarity with me. Still, I doubted I ever made him proud either.

As my phone started to ring again, I groped around for it. Probably Aizawa. Now that he had my number he'd be the only one stubborn enough to call and call and call until I went crazy and just answered.

The number was blocked.

Running a hand through my hair, I flipped the phone open and yawned, "Moshi-moshi?"

"Are you alone?" an eerie voice hissed, raising the hair on the back of my neck.

"Who is this?"

"Are you alone or not?"

"Yes. I am." Last night's horrible, waking dream came back to me again and I glanced around, half-expecting to see a face peeking through the window at me.

"I want you to meet me at noon—make sure to come alone, and don't tell anyone where you're going. If you get the cops involved, I'll make sure everyone you care about suffers very, very much. Do you understand?"

My throat tightened and my stomach roiled. "Yes."

"Go to the place where we first met and walk four blocks east and six blocks north. There's an old building there that's going to be torn down in a few days. Go around back. The door will be unlocked, and I'll be waiting." He mumbled an address.

"But…who…?"

My mind wheeled. He must be someone I knew if there was a place we'd first met. Not one of my friends, obviously. I had heard his voice before.

"Come now, Matsuda," he sneered. "Don't be so dense or you'll never survive this game we're playing."

"Miyami?" My body started shaking, and I realized I was scared out of my mind. The man who'd shot Yamaguchi, the man who worked right under the Reaper, who'd probably had Rei killed, knew how to get in touch with me and wanted me to meet him. "How did you get this number?" I demanded quietly.

"Just meet me at noon, Matsuda, or else I'll kill your friends one by one, starting with Sayu Yagami."

My heart skipped a beat. "Don't hurt her!"

"Be on time," he growled.

The call ended, and I stared down at the phone, shivering.

 _What should I do?_

I should call Aizawa—tell him what happened.

 _No, no. If I do that he'll want to go with me._

He'd want to go instead of me, and probably take Ide. And then…

 _I can't risk something happening to them just because I'm scared._

Rolling out of bed, I stumbled to the bathroom to throw up. There was nothing in my stomach but alcohol, and I was surprised I hadn't gotten sick sooner. While I was rinsing my mouth, I thought hard about what to do. Unless he'd suddenly decided I was dangerous and needed to be dealt with, I couldn't think of any reason for Miyami to contact me—he was supposed to be hiding. I doubted it was a coincidence that he'd made this call the day after Momo told me he'd been partners with Yamaguchi. That information must be more important than I thought.

As I stared into the mirror, I barely recognized my haggard appearance.

Chiba had some information he'd wanted to run past us right before he was killed. Information about Yamaguchi. Could it have been the same information I'd gotten last night from Momo?

 _If it was…and I go over there…I'm going to die._

Hunched over the sink, I threw up again.

What choice did I have? He found Chiba—he burned his whole apartment complex to the ground—he'd find me too. If I didn't go meet him, he'd go after the others.

Pulling my jacket on, I made sure my gun was well-hidden, and went to check out of my room. When I'd gotten a good distance from the motel, I stopped and leaned against the wall of a convenience store. Now that I was out of bed, I realized I still felt dizzy from drinking, and the sunlight brought my headache back twice as bad. I could probably throw up again. Just my luck to have to go face a life and death situation with the worst hangover I'd had in years.

 _Not years._

On the night Light was killed, I'd gotten drunker than I'd been since college. It started with a single shot—to commemorate the end of the case—but it ended with the guys dragging me out of the bar, too drunk to stand up. That hangover had been like a small taste of death.

My hands were shaking violently as I got my phone out again, and I even dropped it. I retched and clenched a fist against my lips, selecting Aizawa's number. I had to make sure I wasn't the only one who knew about what Momo and Rei had told me, but then I hesitated before pressing the call button. If Miyami found out I told Aizawa, he might kill him too.

Risking Aizawa's life wasn't right, but chances were he would have one of the others there with him so he could pass the information along. Maybe Miyami couldn't kill all of them. Maybe it would take him long enough to realize I'd contacted anyone to give them a fighting chance to make use of the information.

 _Whatever happens, it's too important to let slide._

The pound of my heart was agonizing, like it might rip straight through my chest.

 _Am I really going to die?_

God, I wanted to run away. If I did, he'd kill me anyway. He'd kill my friends. He'd kill _Sayu_.

Finally, I hit the call button, still choking and praying to every god I'd ever heard of that he'd answer.

It rang and rang. He had to be awake by now. I could picture him at his desk, with his coffee, scowling into thin air and tapping his pen against his notepad.

 _Pick up. C'mon, Aizawa, pick up the damn phone…_

Finally, his gruff voice answered, sounding exhausted. "This is Aizawa."

I exhaled so heavily it hurt my lungs, but I tried to sound normal, not scared, not sick, not like I was about to go get killed in some abandoned dump. "H-hey, Aizawa…" I even tried to smile, and that almost had me hurling all over my own shoes. "It's Matsuda."

There was a long pause, and I heard him talking to someone else. Probably Ide. I wondered if they'd have any way of tracing the call. "Matsuda," he demanded, voice laced with panic, "where the hell _are_ you? Are you okay? You—"

"There's no time to explain." They'd be finding my body soon anyway. I wondered if I'd be tortured to death. Knees buckling, I crouched down with my back to the wall. "Listen, I have—"

"No, _you_ listen! Do you have any idea how worried we've been? What part of this murderous psychopath is after you do you not understand? You'd better tell me where you are right now—this is ridiculous, Matsuda. Asinine. You've done stupid things before, but this time you could have at least—"

"Aizawa!" I shouted, unable to keep the shaking out of my voice. It seemed like it would rock my whole body apart. "Please! You've got to shut up and listen! I have something really, _really_ important to tell you!"

At last, he went quiet.

I had to take a pause too and draw a deep breath to collect myself.

"Where are you, Matsu?" he asked again, quieter this time. "Are you okay?"

"No," I managed to grate out. "No. I'm not okay. I'm not okay. Just listen."

"What happened?" Worry hitched his voice.

"I went to Yama's last night…"

"I know."

"I talked to the barkeeper—Momo—he told me something about Yamaguchi. I think it's the same thing Chiba figured out."

"How did you make him answer your questions? Kei said he was too tight-lipped to talk."

If he knew I'd been there, he must know I'd pointed a gun at Momo, so he was probably just asking to buy time, but I relived the horror of holding Momo at gunpoint and the terrified look on his face, barely able to manage my shame. "It doesn't matter. Look, Hiro Miyami owns that bar. I think he killed Yamaguchi, but I don't have any proof. Also, Atashi Rei confessed to making those IDs we found—he said he was hired anonymously and that his client used two middle men to talk to him. I know one of them was Yamaguchi, and I think the other was Miyami. I think they're all working for the Reaper." The more I talked, the more frantic I felt and sounded, and the more I realized I had no way to prove any of what I was saying. "I don't know what you can do with any of that, but if you can use it…"

 _Some of this hell might turn out to be worth it._

For a second, he was silent, and then his voice took on a tone of unadulterated seriousness, blended with compassion, and strangely conversational. "Hey, I'm on it, pal, don't you worry, but why are you telling me all this right now, Matsu?" It was the way we'd all been trained to talk to people bent to throw themselves off of bridges, and I knew he'd detected the raw panic in my voice. "Why don't you tell me where you are, and I'll come get you? We can sit down and talk about it. We can figure it out together."

I wished I _could_ go sit down somewhere and just talk all this horrible stuff over with him. It was good to hear his voice, so full of confidence and equally gentle, inspiring in me the same trust it always had since L had Light, Misa, and Soichiro detained. That had been a tough thing for me to watch, and it had spurred a lot anxiety in me, but Aizawa had been there, at least, steady and unwavering, and it hadn't taken very many times of hearing him reassure me things would be all right before I'd started to rely on that.

That's why, the night I'd gotten too drunk to even find my way home, Aizawa standing over me as I lay half passed out in my bed, murmuring in an unexpectedly kind voice, _it'll be okay…but if it's not…call me,_ had solidified a feeling in me that I could count on him; even if nothing he said ever chased away the memories of shooting Light or finding his dead body, it reassured me that I wasn't alone.

"C'mon, Matsu," Aizawa insisted. "Tell me where you are. Let me come get you." I realized I'd been quiet a really long time. If they could trace the call, they'd be almost finished now.

Forcing myself to stay in the present, I told him, "Just use what I told you to figure this mess out… I'm counting on you."

"I will, Touta, I will. Hey, tell me how you got this information in the first place."

He knew me pretty well. On a good day, I'd love to brag about where I'd been and what I'd done, talk for at least twenty minutes about my successes, tell him the same highlights over and over until he couldn't stand it anymore.

"I have to go," I mumbled, wishing today could be that way.

"Touta. Don't hang up," he ordered, with a feeble guise of authority that told me he knew there wasn't a damn thing he could do. "Don't you dare."

I stood up again and hesitated on that edge for a moment, trying to find something to say, anything, but what was there when I was only a few short hours from dying? How could I say anything without him realizing it was the last time I was going to talk to him? "You're a good friend, Shuichi," I whispered finally.

The panic he'd been trying to contain burst, and he shouted, "Touta! What's going on? You—"

Barely breathing, I hung up and dropped the phone at once to stomp on it, grinding it into the sidewalk with my heel, and then I kept walking.

It took a little over an hour to get to the spot where I was supposed to meet Miyami, and within that time span my mind went through every terrible thought and possibility in existence.

Did he get my number from Sayu? Was he holding her hostage? Was he watching my friends, waiting to kill them if I didn't show up in time? Would he know I'd talked to Aizawa? Would he kill him? What was he going to do to me?

He must really think I was dumb if he believed he could convince me to go and meet him. But look—he was right. Would it really protect the others to do this? If he wanted me dead, couldn't he just find me and shoot me?

Outside the building he'd specified, a tired sign warned against trespassing, but I knew it had to be the right place. It stood apart from the other buildings on the block, a large concrete yard providing some isolation, and the thick walls housed only a few windows. Some kind of warehouse. No one would find my body for a long time.

Fists clenched against my sides, I circled around to the back. The place was trashed and falling apart, with broken windows, dilapidating bricks, and graffiti painted on the walls. I'd never thought much about death, and I rarely pictured my own end, but I definitely wouldn't have pictured dying in a filthy place like this.

 _This is what I get for sneaking around by myself._

The door at the back was almost totally overgrown with bushes and weeds, the doorknob was rusty. Someone had spray painted a skull in the center, but the red had faded to pink.

With a deep breath, I pushed it open, flinching at the creak of the hinges, and then I stood there, staring ahead into the blackness, listening to the sound of my own shallow breathing.

I crept forward, letting my eyes adjust. The room was cavernous and blank, cold and concrete. A set of stairs on the far left led up to a pair of doors. It reeked like chemicals and cigarette smoke. Near the center, a broad-shouldered figure stood tall, the bright flicker of a burning cigarette bright in its mouth.

"Touta Matsuda," Miyami called in his rich voice. Lifting one hand for a drag, he checked his watch. "You're early."

A few feet from him, I stopped, panting so hard I thought I must be about to have a panic attack.

"Why, though?" In measured steps, he prowled toward me. "Why hurry to your death?" His grin stood out in the sunlight behind me, and his glasses gleamed.

"You said you'd kill my friends… Right?" That voice couldn't be mine. I was too afraid to speak.

"Oh, absolutely. Well, actually _I_ wouldn't do anything, but I have a good friend who's a little chemically unbalanced."

"If you're gonna kill me…do it. But leave them alone."

I could not have said that. There's no way I'd ever say something that brave. My stomach flopped at the words, and my mind screamed for me to turn around and run away.

Miyami laughed, circling me. "Very impressive for a coward. Then again, maybe I shouldn't underestimate the man who killed Kira himself."

Violently, my heart threw itself against my sternum and then seemed to stop completely, like it knocked itself out. He knew. How? How could he have found out? This proved he was working with the Reaper at least, but that only meant the Reaper must know who I was also, and what I'd done.

"What do you want from me?" I wondered.

"Do you really need to ask?" He blew smoke in my face. It barely fazed me, and suddenly I was glad Ide had been smoking so much lately.

"If you think I'm such a coward, but you're afraid of me, what does that make you?"

Miyami's icy laughter filled the whole warehouse, and frost stole through my veins. My heart had come to again, but it beat sluggishly, trying to pump the mud that had replaced my blood.

"I'm not afraid of you, _boy_." He gnashed his teeth right at the end of my nose, spewing more smoke. "Have a little modesty. If it were up to me I wouldn't bother with any of this. If it were up to me, I'd let you investigate to your little heart's content until you wandered into my hands, and I wouldn't bat an eye."

Struggling to hide my fear, I stared back at him, wondering if it would even matter if I got more information out of him. "Then your boss… He must be scared of me."

His voice grew serious. "Do you think the Grim Reaper fears the living or the heroic hearts of the hopeful? No. Death has a power which is stronger than love itself. Have no doubt, you will stand trial for the crimes you've committed, and he is not a forgiving man." He snapped his fingers and the shadows around me began to sway back and forth, closing in on me, and then three men emerged from the darkness, one holding a rifle, and another had a semi-auto shotgun. They dressed all in black, wearing masks, and each had an English letter k sewn into their jacket. I'd seen that somewhere before…

Miyami blocked the exit.

"Do yourself a favor, Matsuda: drop your gun and surrender. That will save me a lot of trouble, and spare you some pain."

Grinding my teeth, I stared at them, unable to tear my gaze away from their guns. "Y-you're not going to kill me?"

"The Reaper has something special in mind for you, and once your blood has been spilled at his feet, Lord Kira will be able to return to Earth to lead his loyal followers to the Rakuen."

When I remembered the way Chiba was murdered, I knew that was just a tiny taste of what the last twenty-four hours of _my_ life would be like.

Thickly, I stuttered, "K-Kira's dead. He's never coming back." It wasn't much consolation to know they weren't going to get their way; in fact it meant I was going to die for no good reason, but at least the others would still have a chance to find these people and arrest them.

"Oh, ye of little faith, you'll soon see how wrong you are." He flashed a vicious smile. "Now drop your weapon."

My thoughts raced. I saw only the four of them, but more could be hiding nearby. Even if I escaped, they'd hunt me down and kill my friends.

Slowly, I reached into my coat and got out Ide's gun, dropping it to the floor. The echoing clatter of the steel against the concrete made me jolt.

Immediately, two of them moved in to seize my arms, while the third picked up the pistol.

 _This can't be happening to me._ I wanted to close my eyes and go to sleep. Maybe when I woke up, I'd be in a better place.

No. I knew that, assuming I ever opened my eyes again, I'd wake up trapped in my own personal torture porn flick.

Hissing, Miyami stepped forward to stand face to face with me. "Ah, it's been fun, hasn't it? I almost wish the game could go on a little longer."

"Just don't hurt my friends," I murmured. "They don't deserve it."

"Mm, I wish I could promise that; they helped you catch Kira, though. In fact, judging by your slipshod maneuvers, I'd venture to guess that shooting Lord Kira was damn near the only way you contributed to the whole investigation. Am I right?"

I let my head hang. He couldn't have been more right, but suddenly, I missed those days. At the time, it felt hard—I remembered dragging myself to bed every night, exhausted, hoping against hope that tomorrow I could find some way to be helpful, telling myself I had to try to stop being so stupid. It had never worked, but now I'd give almost anything to return to the simplicity of doing whatever I was told, never worrying about the big stuff; being an idiot and getting excited about pop culture was easy, and stupid, excitable Matsuda would never have gotten killed over shooting someone else.

Miyami sneered, "Strange that such an insignificant, little fool could have gotten so lucky. A fluke of the universe, I suspect. But, ah…you know—you _must_ know you're not so special." He ripped at the sleeve of my jacket suddenly, and I realized he was holding a knife. "After all, killing someone with a gun is easy _._ " Dumbfounded, I watched him slice through the nylon and into my hoodie, exposing my arm from elbow to wrist.

My heart clenched, just when I'd thought I couldn't feel any more afraid. "What are you—?"

"It takes _real_ courage, _real_ skill to look a man in the eyes as you stab him to death."

Deliberately, Miyami pulled the cigarette from his lips and mashed it out against my wrist.

Pain torn through my arm, and I smelled my own flesh burning.

Screaming, I jerked back, but his men held me tightly between them, and the third kicked me in the stomach.

I doubled over, straining to catch my breath.

Miyami flicked the cigarette butt in my face, and it bounced off my forehead. "And after all the trouble you've caused, you don't deserve a quick death."

While I was still gasping, he snagged a handful of my hair and yanked my head up again, eyes filled with hate, all but spitting in my face. "You deserve to suffer."

Sunlight glinted off the dull steel of his blade.

"No, no, no, wait…" I struggled in their arms. "No, wait… Don't!"

Feeling the knife carve into me was like nothing I'd experienced before; it was so personal and cruel, that sharpness digging straight through my skin and down into my muscle, the itching sensation dripped down my arm, and the dream I'd had last night suddenly didn't feel so horrifying after all.

I thrashed, screaming.

"Who do you think you are to kill Lord Kira?"

Stupidly, I blurted out the words, "I-I didn't! I wasn't trying to!"

"You shot him. Liar. You should have known he wouldn't forgive you."

He sliced into me again, deeply and slowly, another burning incision, an agonizingly small taste of what the Reaper would do to me.

"Stop!" I begged. "Please! You don't…" I bit my tongue until it was bleeding too. If nothing else, I couldn't reveal something about the notebook just because I was being hurt.

His next slash was quick, but more violent, and the blood gushed away from it, followed by shockingly cold pain.

"I'm sorry!" I screamed, still straining to break loose. "I'm sorry I killed him!"

Miyami pressed the cold flat of the blade to my cheek, and immediately I was still, gasping and catching my breath. He stared at me, gaze as black and emotionless as a snake's. "I'm afraid sorry doesn't _cut_ it."

I felt the itch of the knife starting to scratch into my cheek, threatening to send me into the rest of my life with a huge scar on my face.

 _So what? I'm not gonna live very long after this._

 _I don't want to die!_

 _Then why not fight?_

I'd barely even had the thought, and before I knew it, I was cocking back. With all my might, I kicked him in the knee.

A loud snap cut through the silence of the warehouse. Miyami collapsed at once, howling in pain and clutching his broken leg. The knife clattered on the floor.

The third man rushed to him.

"You… You little dumb shit!" Miyami screeched.

My pounding heart drummed in the background.

He'd get me back for that, I realized, and the thought was like freezing water filling my lungs.

 _Have to get away…_

Next, I kicked the man on my right, just as hard. I missed his knee and struck his shin with my heel, felt his body buck against mine as he gave a muffled shout through his ski mask. I kicked him again and again. His buddy tried to hold on to me all the more tightly, but the other man's grip was loosening.

With all the strength I could muster, I wrenched away from him, and my heart shuddered at the opportunity. With my free hand, I clocked the last man holding me. Nose busting under my fist, he flew back in a spray of foaming blood.

I scrambled to grab his shotgun.

The third guy rushed me, gun pointed at my chest.

My slamming heart lurched to another halt.

"Don't shoot him!" Miyami bellowed, still floundering and groping around for the knife he'd dropped. "Toyoshi wants him alive!"

The man with the rifle stopped dead, just in front of me.

I kicked the gun out of his hands and planted a mean left hook against his jaw. He tumbled back, tripping over Miyami, and they both fell.

At this point, it felt like my heart was going to hammer its way up into my throat and choke me.

 _Run! Run!_ my mind screamed.

One of the others threw himself at me. I jumped out of the way just in time, twisted his arm behind his back, snapping it, and tossing him into the heap next.

 _Run, run, run!_

Instead I dove for the rifle, shaking so bad, I didn't believe for a second I could hold onto it, much less fire. And then, the second I felt that cold steel in my hands, I knew better.

My finger found the trigger automatically.

The urge to run vanished like a drop in a bucket.

I spun around, just as the guy with the broken face lunged at me.

A scream ached in my chest.

Silencing it, I pulled the trigger.

Half of his head got blown away.

Barely missing me, a shot zinged past my head.

I racked back, aimed for the next man, panting, and shot him in the chest. He tumbled back with a scream.

The last guy stuck his hands in the air as I racked back again. "Don't shoot! Don't shoot!"

I tripped in mid-step, trigger finger jerking and then freezing.

 _I need one alive._

Another shot echoed through the warehouse. Blood burst from the man's head, spattering my face, and he fell over.

I stared, barely strangling a shout of dismay. But I wasn't the one who'd fired.

Miyami had Ide's pistol. "Fool," he hissed. "You would have surrendered to _him_? The Reaper would never have forgiven you."

"Miyami!" I roared, pointing the shotgun at him. "Drop it!"

Instead of answering, he stared down at the man he'd killed, face impassive, half-kneeling on the bloodied floor, bogged down by the weight of his broken leg.

Gun shaking in my grip, vision going dark, I forced myself to focus. I had just killed two men… It felt more like a dream than a battle.

 _What's wrong with me?_

"M-Miyami…" I stammered at last. "You're under arrest."

He sounded very far away as he answered. "You shot them. Just like that. Without even thinking about it."

I snarled, "Hands on your head!"

Still, he went on murmuring to himself. "Toyoshi said you wouldn't. He said you'd be no trouble."

"What are you talking about?" I took a quick glance around the warehouse, but if he had any other men with him, they would be on top of me by now. "Put your hands on your fucking head!"

"When you fought Troy," he continued distantly, "you had a gun—don't think I didn't notice—but you didn't use it. Why not? It's inconsistent."

I barely remembered who Troy was.

 _That red k…_

"Miyami, I don't want to shoot you—I never wanted to shoot _anybody_ —but I will if I have to!"

He just glanced around at the bodies of his comrades. "You know… I'm not sure if I can believe that or not. For all I know, you'll just sit there like you've never held a gun in your life." He glanced at the body closest to him. "You're a good shot. If you _want_ to shoot me, you can."

"For the last time, Miyami, throw down whatever weapons you have on you and put your hands on your head!"

Miyami stayed still. I was too afraid to move. I didn't know how to arrest him—I didn't have handcuffs or even a car—but if I could at least get this situation under control, I might be able to use his phone to call for back up. That was assuming he even had a phone on him. One of them must. This was the year 2013 after all. Still, I wasn't exactly sure what I was going to do if I convinced him to actually put his hands on his head.

Suddenly, he smiled up at me. "I underestimated you, and so has the Reaper. No matter—he's an unforgiving man. No doubt he'll kill me for this failure."

"Seriously? You're insane! He can't kill you if I take you into custody, so just surrender!"

Miyami shrugged. "No one escapes death." He pressed Ide's pistol to his temple.

The blood froze in my veins. "Don't!"

A single shot rang out, followed by a spray of brains, and Hiro Miyami collapsed.

I didn't know how long I sat in the warehouse deciding what to do, but there wasn't much time. The carnage around me was unreal—slathered on everything—and I was steeped in it. At last, I dumped the shotgun, along with my hoodie, into the dumpster out back, but hesitated, clutching my Wacko Maria jacket, dismayed at the sight of blood staining the sleeve he'd cut through.

On the day I'd bought it, I'd known I wasn't quite cool enough to rock it, but it was just understated enough—nylon instead of leather, logo simple, casual, not punk—that I'd thought I could pull it off, and I'd been pleased to find that I was right. Not that it had ever helped me climb any social ladders or even pick up girls, but it had always made me feel a little closer to the person I wanted to be.

Ruined or not, I nearly put it back on, but I couldn't go walking through Tokyo drenched in blood, and the crimson on my jeans, already oxidizing to brown, was bad enough.

At last, I threw it away too, and stuck Ide's pistol in the back of my jeans, under my shirt. "There goes fifty thousand yen," I muttered as I started walking.

Again and again, I searched my pockets for my phone, thinking I needed to call this in, and then I'd realize, not only did I not have it, I could get in a lot of trouble for investigating without my badge, let alone killing four people. Leaving so much evidence behind and fleeing the scene was probably the wrong thing to do. I just didn't know what the right thing to do was.

Outside, it was still cloudy, and a strong wind blew. Within a few blocks, I was freezing.

In the daylight, I looked at my arm, violently shaking and drenched in scarlet all the way from my elbow. Under my wrist, the red burn was perfectly round, raised and inflamed, sickly pink with pus yellow at the center. On the inside of my forearm, Miyami had carved an English letter k, ragged and bleeding pretty bad. I tried to rip one of the sleeves of my t-shirt to wrap it in, but that was tougher than it looked, and it probably wouldn't have helped anyway. I needed stitches.

Several blocks from the scene, I stopped at a pay phone and paced around it a few minutes, trying to be invisible and debating calling an ambulance, keeping the torn piece of shirt pressed tightly against the wound. Finally, I called the NPA to report gunshots and gave the address for the warehouse. They'd find the shotgun and my clothing eventually, they'd get my fingerprints, and I didn't know what would happen to me after that. A internal affairs investigation, at least, but that was a problem for another day. Right then, all I wanted was just to go home.

It took hours to reach my apartment, and when I walked through the door I was still shaking uncontrollably. My arm ached from shoulder to fingertip, and even though the bleeding had slowed, the scabs kept busting open again.

God, it was good to be home, though, even with the old mess and clutter. After what I'd been through, it was impossible to feel safe, and I barely understood how I'd escaped that gruesome scene alive.

Stripping off my shirt, I locked myself in my bedroom and dropped onto the mattress face first, watching my blood seep into the bedding. I guessed I'd always have a scar there now.

Falling asleep was easy, but nightmares of every horrifying subject took shape in my mind, and I woke up screaming twice, laid awake, shaking and cursing my cowardice, only to pass out and dream something even more horrific. In some dreams, Light wrote my name in his notebook for being a murderer. In others, I watched helplessly as Misa killed herself. Miyami held Sayu at gunpoint. Aizawa got ripped open by one of Rei's dogs. All my friends were shot, one by one.

At last, I watched myself place a pistol against my temple and blow my own head off, and then I was standing there looking down at my decapitated body, my own blood oozing around my shoes. I woke up practically crying.

After that, I took some sleeping pills, drank a couple beers, and that kept me out a good, long time.


	16. Chapter 16

**Mogi**

Finally, the rain stopped. In the park, the cherry blossoms were blooming, and a thin layer of dew clung to everything, making the world sparkle with a dreary beauty. I took a deep breath, watching the steam die just off my lips, struggling to calm myself. It felt wrong to leave Kei without a decent explanation, though she hadn't seemed to mind. It felt wrong to leave any of them hanging when I knew they'd all gone without sleep last night the same as I had. My eyes felt tired and dry, but the crisp air kept me alert.

Until someone found Matsuda, the possibility of going home to sleep in my own bed seemed unlikely. I couldn't rest until then.

I thought about the last time I'd seen him, on Saturday night, when the four of us had convened at Light's apartment to recoup, debrief, and eat a little dinner before continuing on with our respective assignments. Instead of ordering takeout, which most of us weren't fond of anymore, I'd volunteered to cook. Being in the kitchen got my mind off things, and sure enough, that had been an unexpectedly peaceful moment for me, with Aizawa, Ide, and Matsuda sitting around the kitchen island, having beers, while I threw together a simple meal. There had even been a few minutes when we'd talked about something other than the case, purely for the sake of our sanity.

Having been detained all day, Matsuda had been sour, and he'd kept making underhanded jabs at Aizawa, who, for once, responded with the patience of a saint, refusing to so much as heave an annoyed sigh. In fact, he and Ide had both been unusually kind to Matsuda that night, responding to his frustration with straightforward pragmatism, but I knew neither of them was the type to explain themselves directly.

When we'd had a private moment, I'd felt compelled to do it for them.

 _"We're all just worried about you,"_ I'd said.

 _"I know,"_ he'd answered, sighing, and then explained, gradually, _"But_ I'm _worried about_ you _guys."_ And then his eyes had hardened as he added, frustrated, _"I don't see how any of you can expect me to sit here and do nothing when you might be getting shot at."_

It made me feel bad, and I'd felt surer than ever that Aizawa had made a mistake, but when I expressed that to him, he'd barely looked up from his notes as he grumbled, _"Believe me, Mogi, if I could only choose one of you to have with me in a fire fight, it would be Matsuda. Nobody is more frustrated than me that he has to sit here and be useless."_

Now, of course, Matsuda was gone; all three of us had our own ideas concerning why he'd left based on a private conversations we'd had with him, but there was no way of knowing the real reason, nor any telling when this would all be over, or how it would end, and sometimes when I thought about that strange Saturday night at Light's house, Matsuda joking half-heartedly with Ide and chatting casually with me, even as he shot one vicious word after another at Aizawa, it felt like I really might not ever see him again.

 _As soon as I'm done here, I'll keep looking._

Forcing my guilt away, I paused to take a look around at the newly-green grass and the birds flitting through the tree branches; everything had to get a fresh start every now and then, and sometimes you had to take a new direction just to keep moving.

A group of school children raced past me, laughing and teasing, with a young teacher trailing them quickly, scolding but smiling. I was reminded that even now we still had some hope to turn things around for ourselves.

After Light died, I thought all four of us might have believed that our lives would fall back into step with what had once been normal and familiar to us; hence, we'd gone back to our jobs and back to our routines, each of us struggling in his own way to come to terms with the things that had happened and the people we'd lost, but as this case dragged on, it reminded me, each day, that things would never be the same again. If we solved it, we'd be heroes, Aizawa would get promoted, we'd reclaim our honor and the respect of our fellow officers, and we'd go forward into promising careers. If we failed, we'd all die.

Those results hinged solely on the differences and changes we'd undergone throughout the Kira case. Did we have enough resolve? Were our minds sharp enough? No longer having leadership as we were accustomed to, had we truly found our own feet to stand on? Did we trust one another? Could we protect each other? The Kira investigation seemed to dictate the magnitude and quantity of our strengths, and this was our test.

Above all else, though, this case was personal.

In a moment, I moved forward, and I felt like I was trying to run from an unseen enemy, trying not to look afraid, not letting on that being pursued frightened me. I didn't know what it was that scared me past the possibility of losing everyone and everything. Maybe I was afraid I could never make a difference in the position I currently occupied.

That was because of the Kira case as well. When I'd started out as an NPA detective, I'd done well enough, and my superiors were always impressed with me. My colleagues were always content to have my sharpened perceptions on their side. Things had been good. I'd honestly thought I could do this for years.

But when I got into the Kira investigation I'd seen for the first time what investigating could really be like—it was messy at times, and dangerous, mind-numbing, physically exhausting, thankless work. L had been the greatest detective in the world, and the life he led was both extravagant and exotic, but then it had cost him his life. In the end though, he'd served a magnificent purpose, and that was something I'd never find in the NPA.

I could never be L—I knew that—but I thirsted for that feeling again, of knowing I was doing everything I could, and that I was working at my full capacity. There had been so much room to improve when I was working with L. It had seemed like I could go anywhere. I guess I got addicted to that feeling.

Of course, I lost something along the way as well. Even now, when I turned my head I expected to see her walking beside me, discussing her latest movie gig, or the romantic evening she'd had with the man she'd loved. She'd really been living, and spending time with her made me feel alive too. Misa had made my life feel extraordinary as much as the rest of the investigation had, and I just wasn't sure I could return to the dull gray of the way everything had been before I met her.

At times, I thought that if I could wash her from my very memory and forget that she'd ever been there, I wouldn't feel this restlessness and discontent.

It was hard to pin down how and when exactly I'd gotten so attached to Misa. In the beginning, following her around really had seemed like something Matsuda was better suited, to considering how he'd worshipped her. Over time though, I learned that we were good for each other. I kept her out of trouble, and she brought some color into my otherwise empty life.

Given the chance, I probably could have loved her.

I wasn't as young as Aizawa and Ide had been when I joined the NPA. I'd spent a lot of time after college trying to decide what in the world to do with myself, and part of that was because I really could have done anything. I'd always been hardworking and thorough, good with people, a quick learner, and exceptionally astute. Despite being a loner, I knew how to be kind and understanding, but relationships, for the most part, had always taken a backseat to my personal aspirations. I suppose by the time I chose to become a detective it was because it seemed like the most interesting job I could think of, and I'd made it my life. There hadn't been room for anything else, and I hadn't cared.

Love had never been a part of the equation, and now that I felt like I'd touched it and lost it I didn't think it would ever come again. I didn't think I'd let myself. What's more, the job I'd once found to be so important didn't intrigue me like it used to.

I scuffed my shoe across the stone path.

There was nothing I could have done about any of it. I'd lain awake, torturing myself, trying to think of any way I could have saved Misa, but, even if I had, I didn't think she ever would have been the same woman. She'd made her own decision.

Now I had to make mine.

I walked down a lane of trees and rounded the bend to where the park fountain came into sight. The water wasn't running this time of year, but it was a distinct meeting place. A tall American-looking man sat on the bench there, and a strange child knelt by his feet, playing with stones and tugging at his white hair.

 _Near._

L now.

Commander Rester noticed me and mentioned it to Near. I approached, but Near didn't look up at me, not even when I stood just a couple feet from him. He was arranging the stones into a pattern.

"Mr. Mogi," he said in a serene voice that told me he'd known I was there long before Rester did. "Please take a seat."

Slowly, I sank onto the bench next to Rester, but even then Near sat with his back to me. I watched him for several moments, waiting for him to speak.

"Well, then," he said finally. "Let's get to the point. You've called several times hoping to arrange a meeting. I'm sorry it's been so difficult to get in touch with us lately. Things have changed since the end of the Kira investigation."

He didn't expand on that, and I didn't bother responding. It was as close to small-talk as Near was going to get.

"Is his about the case?" he asked suddenly.

More than ten people were dead—in less than a month, we'd exceeded our yearly statistic of murders committed with a gun, and the rest of the world must be wondering what had happened in Japan.

Distantly, I gazed across the park, and it seemed a bit grayer than it had a moment ago. For the time being, Matsuda wasn't one of those who'd been killed, and that was what we were fighting for, I supposed. Yoko called me earlier and confessed that she'd seen him and even talked with him for a little while. I didn't know why she felt inclined to tell me when she'd explicitly instructed me not to say anything about it to Aizawa or Ide. She said she'd made a deal with him, but she wouldn't explain much about that, and none of it mattered now because I knew better than to think he'd be where she left him.

But, if I thought I could go there, nearly twelve hours after she'd seen him, and find him, of course I would. If I had any idea where to look, I'd be there right now, and even if I couldn't bring him back with me, I'd stay with him, look after him, help him solve this case, because nothing made me feel guiltier than knowing someone was hunting him even while I stood in the park with Near, preparing to leave the NPA forever.

 _I'll find you before I go. I'll see you again._

Isn't that what I'd thought about Misa too? Hadn't I planned out a short, tasteful goodbye—maybe a short explanation about why I was leaving, maybe a quick kiss on the cheek, a promise to write…

 _I'm not leaving until I know where he is._

"Mr. Mogi?" Near called me back to reality. Rester was staring curiously at me. "If you're seeking my assistance, I accept. After all, we can't have some madman running around killing good NPA officers arbitrarily, now can we?" Near began to stack the stones meticulously. "I'm sure if I join the investigation it'll only be a matter of days before we can bring this murderer to justice."

He must not have anything else to work on at the moment. It might even be what he'd come to Japan for—anticipating that we'd ask for his help. He'd also want to do what he could to keep the notebook out of the hands of evil. Apparently, he still had it, or he'd have said something about it by now.

"It's not about the case," I told him.

Even that didn't seem to startle him, but he stopped tugging on his hair. "I see. Then what is it about?"

Inexplicably, I stalled. "If it were up to me, I'd ask for your help right away—we don't have much time to keep chasing this man, but—"

"But it's not up to you. It's up to Mr. Aizawa, isn't it?"

I wondered how he'd known that. It didn't seem like the kind of thing he would have read in the news, so maybe Aizawa was really just that natural of a choice for leadership.

"Mr. Aizawa is smart, but he's stubborn. If he doesn't want my help, I'll respect his wishes."

"Yeah…" I mumbled. "Aizawa might be smart most of the time, but he's being stupid." It was just like Near had said: he would have this case solved within a few days, and he'd probably even be able to find Matsuda. Aizawa knew that just like everyone else did. Without Near, who knew how long it would take or how many people would die?

Near said, "Everyone is stupid sometimes. Even Kira."

I didn't want to think about Light. I wanted to believe that if I got away from Japan I could start to forget. "This isn't about Kira."

Near added a pebble to the top of his stone tower. "Then what is it about?"

"I…" For the first time I found myself groping for words, and all my manners and formalities failed me. I blurted out. "I'd like to humbly request to join you and your team of investigators."

At last, Near looked up at me, black eyes wide. Even he hadn't been expecting that. It passed though, and he looked down again. "You want to join L's Special Forces?"

"If that's what you're calling it."

Finally, he left the rocks alone and went back to pulling on his hair. "I must admit that's the last thing I was expecting."

Rester studied me, trying to find an angle in my motivation.

"No one is expecting it," I told them.

"Your friends, you mean? They don't know?"

"I didn't even tell them you and I are meeting today."

He thought a long, long while, and I shivered in the cold. The bench was damp, and I felt my coat getting wet.

"If I may ask, Mr. Mogi, why do you want to join me?"

"I'm not reaching my potential here. I think I can do better somewhere else."

He looked up at me again. "Most of the men who were working with me on the SPK are dead now, thanks to Mello and the notebook. Because of that, I'm not opposed to finding some new recruits. However, it will require that you leave Japan, your home, your friends and family, and everything you know."

My throat felt somewhat tight as I nodded. "I'm prepared for that."

Near gave a small smile. "Very well. Normally there's a thorough interview process, but the fact that you worked with my predecessor speaks for itself. You're welcome to join us."

I glanced at Rester, but he nodded a quiet affirmation.

"Though I'm eager to get started," I told them quickly, "I do want to wrap up the case I'm working on now."

Near sounded almost puzzled. "Is it really that difficult? Surely Mr. Aizawa will be able to solve it without you."

I thought about Aizawa and how tense he'd been lately. Ide kept telling me he thought Aizawa was heading for an emotional collapse, and not only did I not want to leave him that way, I couldn't imagine how demoralized either of them would be if I suddenly abandoned them to go work with someone else on a completely different project.

"With all due respect, Near, to you I'm sure this case doesn't look complicated, but I'm concerned by the risks involved with letting it go on too long"

As if he'd expected that too, he nodded. "Of course. Well, if that's really the way it has to be, there is a chance I'll have left Japan before the case is over. If that happens, you'll have to get in touch with us later."

Near stood up suddenly, and Rester followed suit, handing me a business card with nothing but a phone number jotted on it, different than the one I'd been using to try and get a hold of them, so it must be more direct. "You can reach us by this number."

I tucked the business card away. "Thank you. I look forward to speaking again."

Next, Near gave me a sly smile. "You know, the four of you may not have been overly affective in catching Kira—I attribute that largely to the fact that he infiltrated you—but I've noticed that there's one valuable attribute which all of the members of the Kira taskforce shared."

A bit bewildered by the unusual speech, I stared down at him. "What's that?"

Near gave a slight shrug. "Loyalty. Even a fool can be a force to be reckoned with when he's loyal."

 _Matsuda…_

For once, my tongue got the better of me and worked quicker than my mind. "I wish I knew where to find him."

Near had no idea what I was talking about, but he nodded like he did, slowly turning away. "If I don't hear from you again, I'll understand."

He thought loyalty might change my mind, and I couldn't guarantee that it wouldn't, depending on how this case turned out.

Back still to me, Near said, "You know, Mr. Mogi, the thing about loyal people is they always come to understand, in time, where they're most needed and go back to where they belong."

I stared hard at him, not understanding.

Near suddenly stopped and looked me in the eyes. He said simply, "Eventually, they go _home_ , Mr. Mogi."

And then he left his pile of stones, walked past the fountain, and disappeared around the bend.

 **Sayu**

"Mom! I'm heading out!"

Drying her hands on the dishtowel and looking worriedly at the clock, she appeared in the doorway of the kitchen. "Out? It's so late, Sayu."

"Don't worry." I did my best to smile. "I'm just going on a short date."

"It's an odd time of night for a date."

"C'mon, it's only nine." I was getting good at hiding my worry from her. "I won't be gone very long."

Still, she drilled me a little more about where I was going, who I was meeting, and what I'd be doing, and I assured her I'd call and check in, if she wanted.

"No," she sighed, still not sounding totally reassured. "Just be back before midnight, Sayu. Please."

"I'll be back before you know it." With a wave, I headed out the door. As soon as I turned away, I let the smile drop from my face and guilt hit the bottom of my stomach. I was tired of lying to Mom, and I hoped that if she ever learned the truth she would understand.

Briskly, I rounded the corner, hands in my pockets. Of course, down the street, the police cruiser that had been watching my house turned its headlights on. I knew they'd follow me, and that at least was some comfort when in truth I was still scared to go out alone.

Discreetly, I glanced over my shoulder at the police car. Aizawa might be mad enough to give me another lecture when they told him where I went and what I did. Even when I got a cab, they followed me into Kabukicho. Several times I thought about going back home because I was so scared, but I made myself keep going. Anyway, if nothing else, helping with this investigation had reawakened some of my courage.

Kabukicho was full of weirdos like always. Even though I was dressed like a boy, there were still people leering at me, and I put my hood up automatically as I made my way to Yama's.

Ever since Aizawa and Mogi came to my house I hadn't been able to get it out of my head that Matsuda was out there alone, doing who knew what. He had obviously killed Atashi Rei, which meant he was desperate, and he was in danger. Even though I knew his friends were doing everything in their power to find him, I realized they were still extremely busy with the case, and searching for a missing cop was a distraction. It would help them if I could find Matsuda. It would help me _._

Before I knew it, I was standing outside Yama's again; it wasn't likely I'd find him here, but it was a good enough place to start. I checked over my shoulder again. The police had parked across the road from me and sat with their headlights off. I drew another fortifying breath, knowing that if something happened to me while I was inside, they probably wouldn't get to me in time, and then I stepped through the door.

The place was just a little bit livelier than the last few times I'd been in, with wild music playing and purple lights flickering off and on. The haze of cigarette smoke was thicker, and the people around me looked anxious and drunk, like they were just aching for a fight to break out.

Momo, strangely enough, sat on the wrong side of the bar with a bottle of liquor and a half-full glass in front of him, bald head resting against one of his hands. He bit his nails, tapping his foot nervously against the floor.

When he saw me, his jaw dropped, and I thought his eyes would pop out. "M-Miss Sayu!" he lurched to his feet. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm looking for Matsuda." Doing my best to seem brave, I marched straight up to him.

Momo took a hurried glance at the other customers, and then gestured for me to follow him. He ducked back around the counter and disappeared into a storage room.

Checking over my shoulder, I followed, chest tight with fear. It was a dingy supply closet, filled with bottles of liquor and lit by a single overhead lamp. I hesitated in the doorway.

Momo snagged my arm and jerked me into the room.

"Hey!" I shoved him off, immediately backing away. "Don't—"

He put a finger to his lips, hissing, "Shh. Sorry, sorry. Just don't want nobody listenin' in. Place ain't too safe these days. In fact, ya better get out as quick as you can."

"What's going on?" I asked, struggling to get my composure again and staring through the door, but the main room didn't look any more dangerous than usual.

"What's going on," he echoed with a laugh, pulling a flask out from under his shirt and taking a swig. "Lot's goin' on. You say you're lookin' for Matsuda?"

"Th-that's right." I eyed him warily, careful to stay out of arm's reach. "I hoped he'd be here."

" _I_ was hopin' he'd be with ya. I don't know any way of getting' in touch with 'im."

"Why do you need to do that?"

Pausing to shoot a worried look back through the doorway, he whispered, so quietly I almost couldn't hear, "I've got some information for him. The other night, he came in here, askin' questions. Guess he connected me to the case."

"Then you knew he was a cop all along," I accused.

Momo shook his head. "Believe me, Miss, I don't know much. I really don't know much. But…yeah, I knew _that_. 'Course I knew that. Peachy-faced detective askin' 'bout gunshots in my bar. Couldn't forget that. Guess you could say I was playin' dumb. That ain't important though. When I saw Matsuda last night—"

"You saw Matsuda last night?" I interrupted. "When? Here? Was he okay? Did he tell you what—"

More frantically than before, he shushed me again. "Yeah, he was here. He was…okay…I guess. Like I said, he wanted some information from me."

"Did you give it to him?"

"Some of it… Not ev'rything. I've got somethin' ta tell him now—somethin' real important, but I dunno how ta get in touch with him."

Disappointed, I leaned back against the wall. I had really hoped I'd find some clue as to how to find Matsuda here. "Well… I am looking for him," I said at last. "I guess, when I find him, I could give him the information."

"No." Momo shook his head, looking firm. "This's dangerous stuff—nothin' for you to be involved in."

My chest got even tighter, but I made myself sound confident. "Momo, you know I've been helping Matsuda investigate. It's okay for you to tell me."

"No," he repeated. "I don't want'cha gettin' hurt."

A bit touched by his insistence, I nodded. "All right. Well is there anything else I can do?"

Momo seemed to think a moment, and then he mumbled, "Could give 'im a message for me."

"What kind of message?"

He checked once more through the doorway, and then suddenly grabbed my collar, jerking me closer and putting his mouth right next to my ear.

My body convulsed out of reaction, but he just whispered, "Tell him ta meet me here." His breath reeked of booze. "Tonight, if he can. Tomorrow, at least. I'll be here all night, but he's gotta hurry." He swallowed hard. "Or else…"

"Or else what?" I pried his fist open and pushed his hand away, gently.

"One of my associates is dead. Whatever happened with him, I don't want it happenin' to me."

Was he saying he was scared that if Matsuda didn't hurry he wouldn't be around long enough to give him the info? I stared into his eyes a moment, but they were wide with genuine fear. Still, I couldn't help asking, "How do I know I can trust you?"

His expression turned all the more desperate. "I want out. Tell that to Matsuda. I want out, and I'll do whatever I hafta to get out."

That seemed honest enough, but did I dare believe it? Did I dare risk _not_ getting the information he had?

As if to sweeten the deal, he said, "If he comes ta see me, he'll be able ta crack the whole damn case. I swear it. So, think ya can do it?"

"Yeah, I'll do my best, but—"

Breaking into a gap-toothed grin, he pumped my hand until I thought my arm would fall off. "Oh, thanks! It's such a big help!"

"Yeah, but…I don't know where he is."

Momo's face fell considerably.

"Can't I bring another investigator?"

"No," he snapped. "No other cops. I don't trust no stinkin', dirty cops."

"All right," I agreed. "Just Matsuda." Laidback Matsu, I thought, was probably easier for someone like Momo to talk to. "I'll do my best to find him." Even as I said the words, I wondered how. Today, when I tried to call him, I found his number out of service, and that was the last thing I could take.

"I know it ain't a guarantee," Momo told me, finally stepping back. "It's worth the risk though."

"What exactly is the risk? I mean, what do you think's going to happen?"

"Don't worry about that," he growled. "Just get outta here before anybody notices you. Go find your boyfriend. Tell him ta hurry." He seemed to think a long moment, and then he hissed, "Watch out for Anubis, sweet heart. He's as cold as they come. Osiris, too."

I stared at him, waiting for him to explain what that cryptic nonsense meant, but he just turned and suddenly left the store room to start serving customers.

Slowly, I made my way out of the closet myself and toward the exit, glancing questioningly at him several times, but he refused to acknowledge me. I didn't blame him for being scared, but I wished he could have been clearer.

As I was leaving the bar, the door suddenly swung open, and a man stepped through, accidentally bumping against my shoulder and knocking me back. He steadied me at once with firm hand.

"Oh, excuse me, little lady."

Still a bit dazed, I glanced up at him.

He was very tall for a Japanese man, and he had sharp cheek bones. His skin was also disturbingly pale, like a ghost, and his eyes, like sapphires set against ivory, were decidedly dark. He was dressed from head to toe in white.

The man flashed a smile, but I couldn't find my voice. There was something very scary about those cold eyes.

He opened the door for me. "Allow me, Miss."

I practically stumbled out of the bar, glancing back at him as he walked straight to Momo.

All the color drained from Momo's face at the sight of him, and he nodded, jerkily.

The man in white glanced back at me, and I ducked to the side at once, breathing hard. My blood seemed cold, and I felt as if I'd come into contact with an evil spirit, this terrible, trembling sensation of dread. After waiting a moment, I peeked through the window, trying to get a better look at the man, or to get an idea of what he had to say to Momo.

They were both gone.

Frustrated, I strained to see deeper into the crowd, or past the bar into the store room.

"Damn."

Finding Matsuda was my priority anyway.

Reaching into my pocket, I took out the photograph I'd brought. It was two or three years before Kira ever showed up, at Matsuda's graduation from the academy, I guessed. Dad had a lot of pictures just like it with different classes from over the years, and it had taken me some time to root through them all until I'd found it. The twenty-one-year-old Matsuda who smiled at me from the picture didn't look a day over eighteen, with his soft face and brilliant eyes, and he was much happier than I'd seen him recently, flushed with excitement and beaming at the camera, but his appearance hadn't changed all that drastically. It might help.

As I started up the street, it occurred to me to call Aizawa to see if he'd help me find Matsuda, but then that seemed stupid. When he came to my house, Aizawa had obviously been worried sick; he and the others had probably been looking for Matsuda non-stop ever since he disappeared.

What other resources did I even have?

As I walked, I tried to think like Matsuda.

 _Yesterday, he went to Chiyoda and possibly killed Rei, came all the way over here to talk to Momo, but didn't get the information he needed._

Would Momo have given him _some_ information willingly, or would Matsuda have forced him?

 _Today, one of Momo's coworkers is killed, which scares the hell out of him, so either Momo's boss is killing men, or the NPA got him._

But if it was the NPA, it would have been on the news. Matsuda could very well be responsible for _that_ too.

Frowning, I studied the picture in my hands. Imagining Matsuda as a killer was much tougher with that smiling face in front of me, but all the same, it was a reasonably sound conclusion that he'd killed Atashi Rei at least.

I paused at the corner, folding my hands in front of my face and breathing the familiar smell of my brother's clothes.

 _Light, what should I do?_

If I had killed two men over the last two days, where would I be?

He was a simple guy after all, running on emotion, doing what felt right in the heat of the moment. People were dying around him. He was killing enemies out of his desperation to save the others, but it wasn't getting him anywhere. Where would he go after that?

 _Home_ , a small voice inside whispered simply.

At first, I wasn't sure where the idea came from; it was fleeting and nonsensical. In a second though, I felt almost as if my brother were speaking to me from beyond the grave, and I felt positive that I knew where Matsuda was—at his own apartment.

Whether Light had told me, or if it was my own intuition, or if I was just completely wrong, it was as good a place to start as any other.

I looked up, thinking about the best way to get there, but paused immediately.

The white man I'd seen had come out of Yama's and was strolling up the street in the opposite direction of me with a bold stride and an aggressive touch to his mannerisms.

Silently as possible, I crept after him, pausing by the window to look inside Yama's. At the counter, Momo had resumed drinking. At least he was okay.

Ahead of me, the mysterious stranger had gone just in time to see him round the corner.

Not sure why I felt compelled to do so, I trotted after him, sticking close to the shadows and tucking Matsuda's photograph into my hoodie. Whoever that guy was, he was creepy, and maybe I was just reaching, but I felt like he could have something to do with the whole case.

Hesitating at the corner, I peeked around to see which direction he went next, but he was climbing into a car. I stared hard at it, trying to memorize its license plate number, but it was too far to make it out.

While I was there, someone stepped up behind me.

I glanced back at them.

Three men stood shoulder to shoulder, glaring down at me. Two had guns, and the one in the middle had a lead pipe. There was something familiar about him.

In a low, dangerous voice, he asked, "What do you think you're doing, little girl?"

Fear poured through me, and I took a halting step back. "I…I'm…"

"It isn't nice to spy on people." He smiled gruesomely at me, with teeth as white as milk.

"I wasn't. I'm just…"

"You'd better watch your step."

His men advanced, menacingly.

I should run. If I could get away, get somewhere safe to call somebody. I definitely shouldn't stand there like a helpless, little girl.

My feet suddenly seemed as heavy and cumbersome as cannonballs, and I thought wildly of the night I'd been kidnapped.

"Please," I begged. "I'm not doing anything…"

He reached for my arm. "I'll teach you to sneak around spying on people."

All at once, my body came to life. Shrieking, I kicked him as hard as I could in the shin, and while he was stumbling and cursing, I spun away and slipped through his fingers. Terrified that I'd hear gunshots at any moment, I ran for my life.


	17. Chapter 17

**Matsuda**

"Matsuda?"

The voice called me back from a sleep as perfect and untouched as death. At first, I thought it must be in my mind, and I lay with my eyes closed, half-awake.

There had been some other noises too. I'd assumed they were part of a dream, but now I wasn't sure I'd been dreaming at all.

"Matsuda."

Painfully, I opened my eyes. My headache had finally faded, but with waking up came this agonizing knowledge that something was bound to go wrong at any second, with no way to prevent it.

Out of habit, I groped around for my phone, gradually remembering I'd left it at Light's apartment, and the phone I'd bought to substitute, I'd smashed that, right before…

 _What a fucked up day._

I stared up at the black ceiling, guessing at how long I'd been asleep, not actually caring, thinking I never wanted to leave the safety of my bed again.

Gradually, I became aware of how uncomfortable I was, like I'd been folded into a dumpling; sweat stood out on my face, and every muscle in my body ached. My stomach was sicker than it had been when I woke up this morning, churning and flipping and remixing, and that awful watery feeling clung just at the back of my throat, like I was going to throw up at any second. Dry as ash, my tongue stuck to the roof of my mouth, and pain blazed up and down my left arm.

Kicking my feet out from under the blankets, I sat up, thinking maybe I should go try and make myself puke. Once that was out of the way, I could go back to sleep. Obviously, I shouldn't have mixed alcohol with those sleeping pills. "Fuck me," I grumbled, scrubbing my damp forehead with a trembling hand.

That's when I noticed the light coming from under my bedroom door.

Spine stiffening, I drew a sharp breath.

And then, the voice called again, closer, and very real this time. "Matsuda?" To my horror, a shadow passed in front of the light, hesitating. Someone stood right outside my room.

Wildly, I sprang out of bed, groping for my gun, not sure where I'd left it.

"Matsuda?" Someone knocked gently on the door.

"Shit, shit." I choked back the urge to throw up, spent several minutes scouring the darkened room for my jacket before I remembered I'd thrown it in the dumpster behind the warehouse.

 _No real courage in shooting a man anyway…_

"Matsuda!"

I leaned against the wall, trying to control my breathing, and I felt so exhausted and disturbed I wasn't sure I could handle my gun even if I found it.

 _If I can't defend myself without it, I probably deserve to die._

There was another light knock on the door. "Matsuda. I hear you."

My forehead creased with confusion as I recognized the voice. "Mogi? Is that you?"

"Yes," came the stoic reply. "C'mon, Matsu, open this door."

Suddenly suspicious, I asked, "How do I know it's really you?"

"Of course, it's me," he said after a short pause.

"No." I shook my head, hating the uncomfortable jolt of my pulse. "What if somebody is making you say that?"

"Matsuda. You know how silly that sounds."

In the past, I'd always pushed aside the idea that any of the guys would betray me, but, suddenly, it seemed like the only explanation for how Miyami had found out I killed Kira.

He insisted, firmly, "Open this door. I have to talk to you about Sayu."

 _Sayu._

Immediately I unlocked the door, throwing it open so hard it clattered against the wall. "What about Sayu?"

Eyebrows raised, Mogi stared down at me. My blurry vision made it seem like there were two of him, somber as always, but pale and tired-looking.

I clung to the doorframe for support, glancing up and down the hallway, but he was alone. "Where's Sayu? Is she okay? Hey, did you say that just to get me to open the door? How did you get in here in the first place, Mogi?"

For several seconds more, he stared at me like I was a crazy person, and then he came to life, clearing his throat and shifting his weight. "Your landlord helped me."

"What do you mean? How'd you know I was here? I didn't tell anyone."

"Near told me."

It was probably the most confusing thing he'd said so far, and I stood there, blinking, swaying to keep my balance. Even out of my dumpling bed I felt unusually warm, and my left arm was on fire. "How did Near know? When did you even talk to Near?"

"Matsuda," he said gently. "Do you have a lot more questions? I came here to tell you something important."

Stirred out of my bewilderment, I realized I was acting a little crazy. Past that, it felt like I'd gone weeks and weeks without seeing a friendly face, and the sight of him filling my hall with his broad frame, and the sound of his voice softly saying my name, helped ease some of the tension out of me.

With a sigh, I pushed the hair away from my eyes. "Sorry, Mogi. It's been a really messed up day, and I had some sleeping pills with my beer, and now I'm just all…fucked up."

His eyebrow cocked, but he nodded. "I see."

"Anyway… What did you come here to tell me?" I leaned against the doorway, hoping I'd find the rest of my balance soon.

"Sayu's in the hospital."

As calmly as he said it, my panic came back two-fold. "What?" I shouted lurching forward and nearly falling. "Is she okay? How bad is she hurt? What happened to her? Is she gonna be all right?"

He put a hand up, indicating for me to calm down. "She got jumped in Kabukicho, but I don't know much more than that."

"What was she doing there?"

He shook his head. "I don't know. I thought we'd go over there together." Mogi looked me over in a skeptical way, and I heard an unspoken but lingering concern in his tone.

"I'm fine," I said immediately, forcing myself not to wipe my burning forehead. "It's just 'cause I mixed alcohol and sleep meds."

"Yeah… You're not supposed to do that."

"I'm all right." I stepped past him to pick a new jacket from the closet. It wasn't Wacko Maria, way cheaper, so it wouldn't matter if it got ruined, and black so at least if it got blood on it, no one would notice. Right now, it seemed like I was closer to getting puke on it.

Gently, Mogi caught my wrist, still streaked with dried crimson, pulling me to a stop and lifting my arm. He indicated to the cuts there. "What happened?"

I could barely stand to look at them. After a few hours of exposure, they looked worse than ever—swollen, deep, and half-congealed—the stem of the k had partially scabbed over, black and smeared with rusty brown, but it still oozed fresh blood near the middle. The burn from the cigarette had swollen.

"I don't wanna talk about that," I muttered, looking away again and shuddering. That would suck me back to the warehouse, and that evil look in Miyami's eyes, and the bang of the gun as he shot himself.

Careful not to touch the cuts, Mogi traced the edge of the stem of the k. "This needs stitches."

"It doesn't matter," I said bitterly. "Even if I get stitches, there'll still be an ugly, English letter carved into my arm."

"Yeah." He finally let go of my wrist and patted my shoulder, softly, like I was fragile, and his face was patterned with evident worry.

"I didn't do it to myself," I told him suddenly.

He gave me a questioning look, like he'd never even considered that. "Of course not. But who did?"

"I really don't wanna talk about it."

"All right. Let's go see Sayu. While we're at the hospital, someone can dress it."

Suddenly, I realized it was lucky that he'd come instead of Aizawa or Ide; they probably would have broken my door in, interrogated me, and dragged me off against my will, but Mogi was calm and considerate. Steadying me, he took me out to his car, and all he had to say was, "I'm glad you're alive."

"Me too," I muttered.

Outside, the city looked black. _When did everything get so dark?_

I worried about Sayu the whole way. There was no telling what she was in the hospital for. She might need just a few stitches, or she could be full of bullet holes. That idea made me feel sicker than ever, and I leaned my forehead against the cool window. I'd been so stupid to get her involved with the case, and if something really bad had happened to her, I didn't know if I could live through my guilt.

To get my mind off it, I asked, "Aren't you gonna ask where I've been?"

"No," Mogi answered softly. "I'm just glad you're okay. You scared me."

Again, his quiet concern made me feel a little better, but it also filled me with shame.

"I'm sorry."

He shot a short look at me, re-examining my condition. "Just don't do that again, Matsuda."

They'd probably put me back in protective custody anyway, and I wouldn't bother arguing. I'd exhausted all my energy and resources, and after today, the thought of holing up somewhere and letting the others handle everything seemed much more appealing. Besides, I really felt sick, and I couldn't imagine that going away any time soon.

"I won't," I whispered.

At the hospital, Mogi led the way to the ER, still keeping unusually close to me as I shambled unsteadily up the hall and onto the elevator. The closer we got, the more anxious I felt. Sayu could be dying, and the way things were going these days, it seemed impossible for it to be unrelated to our case, which meant it was probably my fault.

Of course, before I could see her, I had to go through Aizawa, who stood outside her room with his arms folded, rubbing the bridge of his nose, and even though I never would have guessed anyone could feel more tired or unhappy than I did, he looked like he might.

Groaning, I hung back, and Mogi paused too, but it didn't matter. Aizawa noticed us, his expression widened in surprise and he clipped up the hall to meet us. "You actually found him?"

Mogi replied, "He was at home."

"Home? Matsuda." He continued gawking at me with bulging eyes. "After that call you gave me today…" He stopped abruptly, like he didn't want to finish, and looked me up and down. "What the hell happened to you?"

"Sorry, Aizawa," I told him under my breath, avoiding his gaze. I couldn't blame him if he was mad, and I was in no mood to argue with him.

" _Sorry_? That doesn't tell me anything—"

Suddenly, Mogi cleared his throat. "Where's Ide?"

"He's in the room asking Sachiko a few questions," Aizawa answered reluctantly, still staring at me as if he expected to find the answers written on my face.

"What exactly happened to Sayu?" I asked, happy for the change of subject. "Did she get mugged?"

"Nothing was stolen from her," Aizawa told me in a tone that still hinted at the fact that he wasn't ready to discuss a different topic. "What exactly happened to _you?_ "

Fortunately, Ide emerged from the room right then, hair disheveled, tie missing, like he didn't have any energy left to care how he looked. He stared at me and blinked hard. "Well! I was starting to think we'd never see you again. Mogi's hunch was right then." His tone sounded cool also, but his expression made it obvious he shared in Aizawa's anxiety.

"Mogi found him at home!" Aizawa announced. "Of all places!"

"How long have you been home?" Ide wanted to know.

Ignoring the question, I turned to him. "What about Sayu? Is she okay? Do you know anything—Aizawa won't tell me anything!"

Ide and Aizawa exchanged looks. Aizawa muttered, "I don't know anything, Matsuda."

"Kid." Ide put his hand on my shoulder. "Maybe you better sit down. You're lookin' a little—"

"I want to know about Sayu," I insisted, rubbing my burning forehead and trying to hide how awful I felt.

His already thin eyes narrowed further. "To be honest, I doubt it's appropriate right now. You're—"

"It's the only reason I came here!" I practically shouted.

Mogi spoke up suddenly. "Calm down, Matsuda. Aizawa, Ide, tell him something. Anything."

"I don't have anything to tell him," Aizawa insisted, throwing his hands up. "Sayu was wandering around in Kabukicho—some men attacked her and ran away before our guys could apprehend them. Nothing was stolen."

"As far as what she was doing there," Ide continued, lighting a cigarette, "we were hoping you might be able to tell us that, Matsuda." He held up a photograph of my academy class graduation standing with Chief Yagami. "She had this."

As I stared at it, I could hardly believe how happy I'd looked then. While my peers wore stern, professional expressions, I beamed with excitement and hope, and now I barely remembered what it was like to feel that way.

"We won't really know if it's connected to the case until she wakes up," Aizawa added.

"Well, is she okay?" I snapped suddenly. "Did she get shot? Forget about the fucking case for a second and tell me if she's all right!"

All three of them were visibly startled, and it took Aizawa a second to say, with unexpected gentleness, "Yeah, Matsu, she's fine. She hit her head, and she's been unconscious a little while, but other than that, she's uninjured."

"By the way," I went on, "I have no idea what she would have been doing in Kabukicho."

He nodded. "Okay. Sorry."

"I didn't mean it was your fault," Ide explained. "I just meant we thought it was possible she went there to meet with you or look for you."

It didn't help me feel any less sick, but I nodded and scowled down at the floor, tired of this case, wanting out of it more than ever.

"Look," Aizawa ventured when a few moments had passed. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine," I mumbled.

"You look…" he trailed away, probably unable to decide if he should describe me as sick-looking, exhausted, or strung out.

"I'm just tired."

"Want coffee?" Ide offered. "I was about to hit the vending machine."

"No, thanks."

He looked at Aizawa instead. "Black, right?"

Absently nodding, Aizawa rubbed his forehead.

Still worried, Ide gave me a lingering look; Mogi slammed me lightly on the back, and then the two of them walked off together, obviously giving Aizawa an opportunity to berate me.

Too exhausted and queasy to stay on my feet, I slid to the floor. "All right," I invited, "let's get it over with."

"Get what over with?" Aizawa wondered, quietly, like he had no idea.

"Whatever you have to say to me." I laid my head against my knees. "We're alone. You can chew me out, and no one will stop you."

"I'm not going to chew you out." He said it with a tone of surprising softness and almost shame, like he was hurt that I could think that of him. "I'm just glad you're alive." Quieter than ever, he added, "That phone call today…it really scared the shit out of me."

Willingly admitting to his private fears wasn't like Aizawa, and I lifted my head to look up at him, again noticing how exhausted he looked. His goatee had gotten shaggy since the last time I saw him, but his eyes burned with evident compassion, and he looked strong to me, taking me back to the night he and the guys had dragged me home from the bar.

Aizawa had carried me up to my apartment on his shoulders while the other two waited in the car. I'd kept saying, _"I can't believe he's gone…I just can't believe he's gone,"_ and he'd reassured me over and over, _"It's not your fault, Matsu. It's okay."_

 _No matter how weak and stupid he thinks I am, he was willing to be there for me._

Not for the first time, I wished I could be more like him, but, to my dismay, even after seeing him nearly every day for six years, none of his toughness had worn off on me. Without a doubt, if he'd met up with Miyami today, he'd have the Reaper in custody by now. At least, he wouldn't have a hideous English letter carved permanently into his body.

Finally, I said, "I should have listened to you—I thought I could go out there and…you know…be all I can be, but I was just being stupid, as usual."

To my surprise, he sank down beside me, confessing quietly, "I thought you were going to die today."

"Yeah. So did I."

"What happened?"

I tried not to think about that terrible scene in the warehouse, but it was already there—the pain and terror, the anger, the death and carnage. "I almost had Miyami…" Wincing, I rubbed my sliced up arm. "I couldn't arrest him by myself though." It was dumb to think I could have. "He killed himself."

"Yeah, we found his body today after Shinda got an anonymous call. Your DNA and fingerprints were everywhere, Matsuda."

Heaving a sigh, I lowered my head again. "I know. Look, if I have to testify about it later…okay… I'll even go to jail if I have to."

Aizawa frowned. "What are you talking about? Yeah, Internal Affairs will want to talk to you, but you're not going to jail; those guys obviously had illegal weapons." He paused a moment. "I know you don't want to talk about it—you don't have to—but did he say anything that might help with the case?"

"I…I don't know." I ran my fingers through my hair. "As far as I know, he was working directly under the Reaper." I closed my eyes, reliving Miyami's last, horrifying moments. "He was really, really messed up, Aizawa. These Kira people we're dealing with… They've got issues."

"Tell me something I don't see on the news every day," he huffed, and then suddenly dug into his pocket and drew out my Nexus, setting it on my knee. "Here. Before I forget."

Startled he had it with him, I swiped absently at the screen, just wanting to see the picture of Sayu and me I'd set as my wallpaper, but the phone was dead.

Aizawa shook my shoulder, lightly. "I kept it safe for you."

I guess he meant that to comfort me, but I just felt all the more idiotic. For years, the only things that had mattered to me had been shallow—having a nice car, an expensive phone, the latest technology at my apartment, despite the fact that I was almost never there, and a high-maintenance, beautiful girlfriend—I'd never taken very much of anything seriously. Now, for the first time in my life, things had gotten real and ugly; after just a few days of it, I felt ready to break. I wanted to take my Nexus, go home, crawl back in bed, and just be safe, wake up tomorrow, have coffee and play on my phone all day. I didn't want to walk around, bearing this guilt, anger, and fear, constantly. I wanted to return to simplicity, and I knew how weak that made me.

"I don't think I'm cut out for this," I told him suddenly.

He turned a questioning look on me, and asked, "For what?" as if he didn't know, as if he'd never thought to himself that I wasn't fit to be a detective, or even on patrol.

"Being a cop." Even now, I felt myself still shaking and still fighting not to vomit. It could have to do with the sleeping pills, I guessed, but I knew I was really just afraid. "I shoulda been a florist."

Surprisingly, he asked, "That's what your father did, isn't it?"

I stared at him. "How did you know that?"

"Your mom told me. You need to call her when you get a chance."

He'd been trying to find me, so it made sense he'd talked to my mother, but it had been a long time since I'd spoken with her, and it never occurred to me that I might be making her worry.

"Anyway, you'd be a shitty florist, Matsuda. You're colorblind, aren't you?"

"What?" I frowned at him. "I'm not colorblind."

"Right. Anyway, look…" He rubbed the bridge of his nose, taking his time to go on. "I know I'm tough on you, but you're not a bad cop."

I had always assumed he must think I was a terrible cop. From the first time we'd started working together, he'd always been giving me that half-incredulous half-annoyed expression, like he didn't even understand why I was there in the first place.

In his dry, grumbling way, he added, "I just think your priorities could use some adjustment."

That was probably true. Thanks to my sucky decision-making skills, Reaper now knew exactly who I was, and I felt like a dead man walking.

"I know it's hard, but the only thing we can do is keep working."

Groaning, I rubbed my face. "I just want this to be over. I'm sick of it."

"Believe me, we all are. I don't even know when the last time I saw Eriko was. I'm not sure who's gonna be happier you're safe—me or her."

Trying to look and sound as sincere as I felt, I said again, "I am sorry, Aizawa. Really, really sorry. I know I just wasn't thinking…but I never meant to scare you."

He cracked a tired but genuine smile, and then he nudged me. "C'mon. Don't you wanna see Sayu?" With that, he stood up and helped me to my feet.

Approaching Sayu's room, some of my nervousness was restored. It was typical, all white and sterile, with a faint scent of cleaning products in the air. Different machines and monitors beeped and flashed, but a normal TV mounted up in the corner played run of the mill talk shows on mute. Sachiko sat on the edge of the bed, holding her daughter's hand while Sayu slept peacefully.

Dark hair floated on the pillow, and her face was pale. A nasty bruise yellowed her left cheek and a shallow cut had been stitched up above her eye. As far as I could tell, her vitals looked normal, and seeing her in one piece made me sigh with relief.

"Mrs. Yagami," Aizawa greeted with a bow.

Face drawn with more worry than ever, Sachiko turned to us. "Hello, Captain," she answered, a little coldly, and then shot me an even icier look.

"How is she?"

"The doctor said she'll be fine."

"I'm glad to hear that."

Gazing into Sayu's beautiful face, I drifted closer to the bed. At the sight of her, my guts loosened a little, and I felt the fear start to fade. She looked perfect and angelic, with her lips parted, and I remembered all too easily the warmth and comfort of how it felt to kiss her.

"So… She'll be okay?" I asked quietly.

"Yes." Sachiko glared. "No thanks to you."

I did a double-take of her, but outrage flushed her grief-stricken face. "She's been worried sick about you."

As I studied Sayu again, the regret felt like it would overwhelm me. "Seriously? Me?"

"You're clueless as usual," she snorted. "My daughter—the only family I have left—was out wandering the streets of Tokyo alone, questioning strangers about _your_ whereabouts."

"We don't know that for sure," Aizawa told her gently.

"It's the only explanation!"

Even knowing I couldn't express my guilt in simple words, I stammered, stupidly, "I-I'm sorry. I never meant to hurt Sayu. I—"

"Do you think I don't know what you've been doing?" she demanded, and her normally gentle eyes flashed. "Letting Sayu investigate with you! It's disgraceful!"

Automatically, I chanced a glance at Aizawa, thinking he must have told her, but he just shook his head.

"Sayu has suffered enough," Sachiko went on woefully. "I thought you understood that too. I thought you'd try and spare her any additional pain. It's no help that you disappeared! No. You wasted your time, and you scared all the people who care about you."

I tried to remember why I'd let Sayu get so involved, but I had just liked the feeling that came with being around her. It was the height of selfishness.

Sachiko turned to her daughter again, that awful expression of fury and grief still marring her face, but her voice turned quiet. "I want you to stay away from Sayu from now on, Matsuda. Please."

I gasped. "St-stay away from her?" Strangely enough, that idea felt like drowning; after Sayu had brought so much light and hope into my life, I couldn't imagine walking away, never seeing her again.

There was a frustrating pause, and I saw Sachiko starting to lose it, body heaving, breath turning irregular as she struggled to stay calm. "I refuse to watch my daughter get hurt over her feelings for a police officer."

"But we're just friends!" I blurted. "I made a mistake!"

"Some friend," she spat. "Soichiro and Light are gone, and you dare to drag Sayu into a dangerous criminal case. How can I forgive you?"

Scoldingly, Aizawa interrupted, "Mrs. Yagami—"

She talked over him in a way I'd never heard anyone manage before, without lifting her eyes or raising her voice. "You're no better, Aizawa, letting him run wild and endanger my daughter. What kind of superior does that? Do you think Soichiro would have let this happen?"

Voice uncommonly subdued, he assured, "No one meant for Sayu to get involved."

But I knew she was right. After letting the chief down and killing Light, I could have at least kept Sayu off this case.

Her mom had every right to be angry.

In her sleep, Sayu stirred, and I saw a sliver of caramel as she opened her eyes; our gazes met.

I turned on my heel and marched out into the blank halls, stumbling, feeling hot and dizzy, and as much as I hated it, it probably would be better if I never saw her again.

"Matsuda!" Aizawa rushed after me. "Matsuda, wait. Where are you going?"

"It doesn't matter," I muttered.

"It _does_ matter! You disappeared for three days, we all thought you were dead today…" Roughly, he snagged my arm and jerked me to a stop. "Corporal!"

Staring down the empty hall to the exit, half afraid Mogi and Ide would reappear, I wanted nothing more than to get away from all of them. "How did she know I got Sayu involved?"

Helplessly, he stared back at me.

"Did you tell her?"

"No. Of course not. Look, Sayu involved herself anyway—she told me as much."

"I'm still the idiot who wouldn't tell her no."

"Look," he backtracked after a pause. "Sachiko's upset."

"She's right though. You know she is." I couldn't look at him for very long. For all I knew he'd get hurt next, or one of the others.

"No, she isn't. She's just distraught."

"She's still right. We let Soichiro die—"

"Hey!" He grabbed both my shoulders suddenly, forcing me to face him. "He was our commanding officer—no one expected us to take care of him. Hell, Matsu, you can't even take care of yourself."

Furious, I wrenched away and even pushed him. "Seriously? Is that supposed to make me feel better? I'm so useless, and helpless, and ridiculous, and _stupid_ that no one expected me to protect the chief?"

"That isn't how I meant it," he said quickly. "You were a rookie, and it wasn't your responsibility to—"

"It's been a long _._ Fucking _._ Time since I was a _rookie_ , Aizawa!"

Shocked, he cut off in mid sentence to gape at me.

"And even if I was, so what? We couldn't do anything to keep him from dying, but we owe it to him to look after his family now!" I clenched my fists so tightly my nails cut into my palms; I gritted my teeth until my gums hurt. "I owe so much to Chief Yagami… He made me what I am by assigning me to the Kira case in the first place. I'll _never_ understand why he did that, but I hung in there no matter how hard it got because I didn't want to let him down."

Speechless, mouth hanging open, Aizawa stared.

Now that the words were out, there was no taking them back, and the rest gushed through automatically. "After he died, I couldn't help feeling like I should have done more—I swore to myself I wouldn't let anything happen to Light, or the rest of his family."

"Matsuda—"

"Surprise-surprise, I couldn't do that either. I killed Light myself!"

Eyes widening, he glanced around the hall. " _Matsuda._ Shh!"

"I did! It's my fault he's gone! If anything else happens to Sayu now—"

"Matsu—"

"I couldn't do it, Aizawa!" I screamed, looking fiercely into his eyes. "I wanted to believe he was good like his dad! I trusted him! When I found out he was Kira, all I could think about was the chief."

Again, Aizawa looked hurriedly around the hospital. "You need to shut up, right now, before Sachiko hears you."

I took an impossibly deep breath, feeling like there was a fire burning in my chest. "I failed. No matter what my intentions are, it always gets _fucked_ up!" I punched the wall next to me so hard I thought I might have busted my fist, and pain shot up to my elbow. At least it felt real. Not like this hole inside me. "I'm not even fit to be part of the NPA!"

Harsher than before, he grabbed my shoulders again. "That's crazy. When's the last time you ate or slept?"

I couldn't remember the last time I'd even felt well enough to eat, but the sleep I'd gotten earlier seemed totally meaningless in the face of all my failure.

"You need to calm down," he insisted. "Let's just go down to the cafeteria, get some food."

He said it in the kindest voice he had, and his hand smoothed the collar of my jacket, but it made me feel pathetic.

"Leave me alone," I growled, pulling away. "I don't need you worrying about me anymore."

"I can't just stop." He threw his hands up, and his voice turned slowly to familiar frustration. "And I'm not sure I believe that anyway, after today."

"You don't know anything about today."

"I know you've got a lot of nerve to act like it's all your fault Deputy Director Yagami is gone." Grief shadowed his face, and he spoke through his teeth. "We were all there when he died."

"Either way, I am the one who got Sayu into this. And Light—"

"You did _not_ kill him," he snarled, and I knew he was trying really hard to stay quiet. "Where is that even coming from?"

When had I started thinking that way? For a long time, I had known it was the shinigami, but as time passed, the details blurred. Were shinigami even real? I'd seen one with my own two eyes, and still it was easier to picture the gunshots and the blood, the rage, the vow to kill him. I'd thought about those things so many times, they were like a wall of fog, with nothing past them.

Remembering, we both stayed quiet.

Aizawa's hands were heavy on my shoulders. "Matsuda," he said all the more seriously, and much quieter. "You can't even imagine how ridiculous you sound right now."

"It's not ridiculous to me."

"I know." He sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "All right, look… I've been meaning to talk to you about this for a long time…"

I glared at him. "What?"

"You didn't kill him…but you did shoot him—"

"Right," I sneered, "that's me. Hero with a gun. It's the only damn thing I'm good for."

His forehead creased in confusion. "You did what you did. Either way, that can't be easy to live with, so maybe… I mean, we all talked it over…" He hesitated another moment. "Maybe you need to see someone."

"See someone?" I echoed blankly.

"I mean a doctor."

It was my turn to stare at him, torn between feeling insulted and just laughing. "A _shrink_? I'm sorry, Aizawa, but why the hell would I do that?"

He glanced around, and I got the feeling he wasn't totally sure how to proceed. "You're not handling the whole Kira thing very well… I thought you were getting better lately, and I thought you'd be okay, but tonight…" Drawing his hands away, he shook his head. "You're not okay. That's part of why I took you off this investigation; it's tied too tightly to the Kira case, and you keep having these close calls, not to mention everything with Sayu, and the other officers who've been dying. It's a lot, Matsuda."

Disbelievingly, I stared at him. Shuichi Aizawa seemed like the last person in the world who'd ever recommend I talk to a shrink. But then, he was tough—he wouldn't need to—and I knew he thought I was weak.

"Everything you've done lately makes sense in its own way, but…only from your own skewed version of logic; honestly, I don't understand how you can stand here and tell me you killed Kira when I _know_ you know Ryuuk did, but obviously that's what you believe."

It made me so angry I didn't know what to say other than, "You talk like I'm crazy."

"Not crazy," he corrected quickly. "I'm sure everything you're feeling makes sense, but it just isn't healthy, Matsuda."

"And what would I tell a shrink, Aizawa? Kira turned out to be a friend of mine, and I lost control when I found out, so I shot the hell out of him. My friends keep telling me to get over it because it was really a god of death who wrote his name in the death note, but for some reason I just can't get the image of shooting him over and over out of my head!"

His face paled.

"On top of _that_ , nobody can know about the shinigami or the notebook, so I have to take the fall when it comes to the fact that Kira's dead, because I'm the crazy, trigger-happy sonnova bitch who couldn't check his own emotions!"

"See what I mean? Somebody could help you make sense of all that."

" _Who_?"

"I don't know. I'm sure the NPA has resources for officers suffering from PTSD—"

"I don't have _PTSD,_ " I growled.

Exasperated, he threw his hands up. "Maybe not—I wasn't saying you do—I'm just saying, if the NPA will pay for you to talk to someone, there's no reason not to."

"Right now, the NPA would rather crucify me," I snapped.

"You could find someone, Matsuda, that's all. It could help you."

"I'm done talking about this," I decided shortly. "I'm going home."

"What? No. You're not."

I turned away. "That's exactly what I'm doing."

"Look, stupid!" He grabbed my arm again, this time right where Miyami had cut me, and I couldn't help wincing.

He looked at me, concerned and questioning, as I wrenched away.

"Get off me, Aizawa."

Panicked, voice rising, he insisted, "After these last three days, you can't possibly expect me to let you wander off into the night!"

"I want to be alone."

"Stop this," he snarled. "Don't even ask me to look the other way while you go off by yourself again. I don't know if you'll ever come back!"

I plunged my hands deep into my pockets. "I will, okay? I'll go outside and get a cab. See you tomorrow."

"Matsuda, I don't think you're listening. You're not yourself, that's what I'm trying to tell you. You're way off your game, you're raving, you look _sick_ , Matsuda! I still don't even know what happened to you today. No. _No_. Absolutely not."

"You'll have to restrain me then, I guess." I started to walk away. "Slap the handcuffs on and shove me in the back of a cruiser."

Aizawa trotted after me. "Matsuda, come on, just let me give you a ride, okay? It won't take long to get back to your apartment."

"As if you'll let me be there by myself."

"Corporal Matsuda!" He grabbed my arm again, voice ringing with an authoritative tone. "I'm your captain. And I said no!"

I should have known he'd try to pull rank on me; normally, that was all it took to get me back in line—we couldn't get around the chain of command no matter what happened—he was the boss. I was just so beyond giving a damn about anything like that.

Furious, I shoved him away, screaming, "I'd just as soon die as go on feeling like this! What about that? You treating me like a liability all the time is almost as bad as the Reaper blaming me for Kira's death!"

He gaped at me. For a second, he tried to answer, but nothing that made any sense came out.

I swiped at my nose, feeling way too close to completely losing my composure. "So just back off for once, Aizawa."

With that, I turned on my heel and strode down the hall. He stared after me, but he must not have known what else to do. When I reached the elevator, he called out, "Call me when you get home."

My phone needed to be charged, but I said, "All right." He'd show up at my apartment right after me anyway.

He sighed heavily. "All right. Good night, Matsuda…"

Out on the lonely streets, I decided against getting a cab after all and began to trudge away from the hospital, just as the rain started up again. After three days of being by myself, I didn't feel afraid to walk home alone, but regardless of everything I'd been through lately, Aizawa still didn't respect me. Maybe he never would. Maybe it didn't even matter since I was seriously considering quitting the NPA altogether. There was still time to be a florist.

That's what Mom told me eight years ago when I told her I was joining the academy. When she realized she couldn't talk me out of it, she told me I could always change my mind later and take over dad's flower shop. I hadn't talked to her in a long, long time, but I was reasonably certain she'd say the same thing today.

" _It's never too late to be a florist, Touta."_

I didn't even like flowers. I'd never had any sense for how to arrange them or even how to come up with a good color scheme.

Tilting my burning face toward the sky, I barely watched where I was going, it just felt good to have the rain pelting my cheeks, and the fresh air helped me calm down. I didn't really mean all those things I'd said to Aizawa, it was just that seeing Sayu like that—knowing I'd caused it—and hearing Mrs. Yagami blame me for it was just the last thing I could stand on a day like this one.

 _Maybe I shouldn't have left_ , I thought when I'd only gone a few blocks, and I even paused to look up at the building, tall and bright, safe in the cold night. I wanted to believe Sayu would be okay there, but I suddenly didn't feel so sure. Reaper seemed more than sick enough to blow up a hospital if it meant getting at me.

For a little while, I stood on the curb, and the rain came down heavier with every passing second, soaking my clothes and making me shudder. It wasn't healthy, and now that I thought about it, I hadn't even gotten a chance to let someone stitch up my arm before storming out.

Aizawa would tell Mogi and Ide about all this, and they'd say I was acting like a child; what good was it to go home and sit alone in my apartment until the case was cracked anyway? I wouldn't even be there when Sayu woke up.

Quitting the NPA to become a florist would be incredibly stupid too. Just because today sucked and I felt exhausted tonight didn't mean I wasn't interested in seeing this through to the end, especially since I was so close.

Come to think of it, Miyami had used a name today in the warehouse. I tried to remember what it had been, but the memory had been polluted by stress, and it was easier to remember my own terror and pain than any of the crazy things that psycho had said.

I sighed. Even exhausted, my mind still wanted to work on the case.

New game plan, then—go back to the hospital, get some food from the cafeteria, have my arm looked at, and then find Aizawa and tell him he was wrong about me needing to see a shrink, but right about not wandering off by myself again. He'd been overstepping his boundaries lately, and some of this just wasn't any of his business.

As I turned to head back the way I'd come, I noticed a man marching toward me me. He had a chest like a barrel, thrown out in absolute confidence, and he was tall, wearing all black with a deep hood shrouding his head. Past it, I felt his gaze boring into me.

He bellowed, "Touta Matsuda!" The accent was familiar—eastern European, I thought—but everything about him, from the determined gait to the aggressive posture let me know he wasn't on my side.

Just as I was contemplating whether I actually had the strength to run, he snarled, "I warned you we'd meet again," and reached into his long coat, ripping out a gun to aim at my head. I didn't know what it was called exactly, but I remembered all too vividly how it felt to have it lingering mere centimeters from my face.

 _The hijacker._

Past its long barrel, the man's gleaming, black eyes told me he couldn't wait to pull the trigger.

"My name is Anubis," he announced, "and you're coming with me."

I sprang at him, catching his wrist, shoving it up, and trying to twist his weapon away from him.

"You little bastard!"

He was twice as big as me, and as we fought over the gun, I felt the last of my strength waning. I clawed desperately at his hand, and he swung back and forth, trying to knock me down. My grip slipped along the slick barrel, and he wrenched it away from me.

Ducking under his arm, I kicked him as hard as I could in the back of the knee. His fingers snagged the front of my shirt as he fell, dragging me down on top of him. He bucked me into the gutter, where cold water gushed across my shoulders.

As he took aim again, I slammed his wrist against the edge of the sidewalk, and he lost his grip. Just out of reach, the gun skittered away. He dove for it, and I nearly broke my knuckles across his blocky jaw. While he floundered on the wet concrete, I fumbled with my own gun, hands shaking so bad I could barely get it out of its holster.

Roaring, he sprang at me on all fours, like a gorilla, and hit hard like a freight train. My gun vanished into the rain-drenched street as well. I smashed against the asphalt, hitting my head and writhing.

He tore a combat knife from his belt and came down on top of me. I twisted away, and the tip of the blade grazed my shoulder.

Forcing myself up, I sprinted after my gun. He grabbed me, giant hand threatening to crush my bones.

I jabbed my unhurt fist into his waist. The knife whistled past my face, missing by dumb luck alone.

"Die!" he screamed, stabbing again. The tip of the blade cut across my side and his shoulder rammed mine. I landed hard in the street again. This time stars and colors splashed my vision, and he slammed down on top of me. The point of the knife cinched against my throat. Desperately, I dug my fingernails into his wrist, holding back the blade.

"Die," he man growled. "Die, die, die!"

I spat up into where I imagined his face would be.

One meaty hand clamped around my neck.

Uselessly, I thrashed, grip weakening on his knife hand, and the blade eased in closer. I felt the edge brush the underside of my chin.

"You're going to die, Touta Matsuda," he chortled, warm breath gushing across my face and neck. "You're going to die for murdering Kira!"

Light filled my darkened vision. Tires screamed, and a roaring engine drowned out the sounds of rain and hideous laughter.

My opponent's grip went lax for just a split second long enough for me to shove his knife back and turn to the side. The point of his blade plinked against the street as he plunged forward again.

A shot rang out.

His weight lifted up off of me suddenly. His boot caught me in the side of the head as he jumped away.

Vision going black, I slumped over in the rain, thinking I would die.

 **Aizawa**

The moment Matsuda got on the elevator, I'd kicked myself for letting him go. The way he'd come into the hospital, with Mogi, ill and unhinged, he obviously had gotten close to the end of his rope while he'd been missing—he ought to be admitted to the hospital himself—and even if I did have to handcuff him and stick him in the back of my cruiser, I shouldn't have let him out of my sight.

As I'd stood staring after him, debating myself on what to do, Ide and Mogi had returned, and when they heard what happened, they'd both agreed I'd made a mistake and I'd better fix it.

"The last thing we need is to lose track of him again," Ide had reminded me.

Grudgingly, I'd set out to find him, still trying to make sense of the hysterical way he'd acted, screaming and cussing at me; it was so unlike him, I didn't know what he'd do or where he'd really go. He shouldn't be by himself.

Sure enough, despite not getting very far, he was already locked in a death match against some punk with a combat knife. If I'd been a second later, he might be dead already, and I wasted no time drawing my gun.

The round hit the man in the shoulder. He screamed in pain, clutching the wound and turning on me, dark eyes wild with fury.

"Drop the knife!"

Heavy metal rang against the steel as he threw it down.

"Hands on your head!"

Quivering, ferocious, he held my gaze, and then suddenly leapt up and sprang away.

I shouted for him to freeze and nearly fired again, barely managing to stop myself. Shooting an unarmed man in the back as he fled would do nothing but get me jammed up with internal affairs again.

Out of reaction, I lurched after him. Catching him could be the key to cracking the case.

But Matsuda lay face down in the street, body flaccid, head skewed to one side, and a stream of bright red trickled over his forehead.

In a moment, the assailant vanished around the corner.

I lowered my gun, slowly, and hustled over to kneel beside Matsuda, laying a hand on his back. His body felt cold. Lacerations scored his shoulder and side. Diluted blood pooled around his body, mixing with the pounding rain.

"C'mon, Matsuda," I panted, grasping his jacket. "Wake up." Carefully, I turned him onto his back, cradling his head and looking down into his pallid face, where steam gathered and dissipated, quickly, with every shaky breath. "Don't you dare do this to me. Don't you dare."

Fear grappled its way to the surface as I pressed two fingers to his throat. His pulse felt weak and irregular.

What now?

Call an ambulance, obviously. Send for back up. Chase down the creep who did this to him. I couldn't do anything right then except stare down into his unconscious face, knowing he'd be losing body heat in this miserable rain. He might be dying.

 _When did it start to matter so much? You always used to annoy the hell out of me…_

He still did, but now thinking about a world without idiot Matsuda was like staring into a black void of endless despair.

 _"Are you really gonna leave?"_ _he asks._

 _"L said I had to choose between this shit and the NPA," I answer ruthlessly, throwing my briefcase into the trunk. "Why would I choose this shit?" I glare at him, not understanding why he bothered chasing me out to my car; no one else was stupid enough to try to talk me out of something when I made up my mind._

 _"We need you," he says earnestly. "Way, way more than the NPA does."_

 _"L doesn't need anybody. You heard what he said—having the help of average civilians isn't the same as having the support of the police."_

 _"No, but we're not average civilians. They can take our badges, but we're still cops."_

 _"Look." I lean against my car, floored by how starry-eyed he still is. "You're gonna learn here real quick that kinda crap isn't true. It's not the way the real world works, Matsuda. It just isn't."_

 _He stares back at me like he doesn't quite believe that, but he'll learn. "I guess I don't want you to go…" he blurts out. "You're the only other normal guy around here."_

 _We've been working together for months; between losing Ukita and watching L detain the chief and his son, we've been through some tough stuff; he's obviously gotten attached to me, but I say, "I'm pretty sure you have more in common with Misa Amane than you do with me."_

 _He turns away, and I know I hurt his feelings. I know he's trying to tell me he looks up to me, without really coming out and saying it._

 _Sighing, I put my hand on his shoulder. "I'll see you around."_

 _"I know, but it won't be the same." He refuses to look at me, embarrassed. "I'm gonna miss working with you."_

That was the first time I got a glimpse of how lonely the kid was. I didn't know a lot about him at the time, but I started getting the impression that he didn't have very much in his life, and he thought we were friends.

 _Maybe that's when this started._

 _I try to smile as I say, "C'mon, it'll be okay. Look, I've always got your back if you need me."_

 _I can't forget the way his eyes lit up, like a damn kid who'd just found a new best friend, and how that cheerful smile came back twice as bright as usual. "Yeah, okay. You, too. You've got my number right? Just call me, and I'll back you up!"_

 _I remember thinking that he wouldn't be much help in the way of back up, especially if he resigned his badge, but I couldn't help smiling back at him, and when he held his fist out, I slammed my knuckles against his._

 _"Take care of yourself, Matsuda."_

 _"You, too."_

 _Now, if I have to go the rest of my life without ever hearing you get excited over something as stupid and pointless as the pop music festival again…I won't be able to handle that._

I checked him over, quickly, sliding my hands down his torso and limbs, like I'd been trained, but panic threatened to take over. "Hey, hey, Matsuda." I tapped his collarbone, harshly. "Hey! Don't do this to me. _Touta_!"

His face twitched, and he groaned.

I exhaled sharply, leaning over him "Touta?"

"Nn. Aizawa…?" he mumbled, tilting his head back and forth, and finally opened his eyes a sliver. "What're you screamin' for?"

I was so relieved I couldn't help laughing, sucked in a breath and held it to stop myself. "Hold still, okay? Tell me what hurts. Is your neck okay?"

"Yeah." Slowly, he glanced around, taking in his surroundings. "Where are we?"

"In the middle of the damn road."

Frowning, he sat up. "Owe…"

"Easy, kiddo." I gripped his shoulder, steadying him. "You hit your head pretty hard."

He rubbed his head, wincing, and looked at the blood coating his palm with disgust. "Ugh." Next, he touched his injured side.

"You shouldn't move too much," I told him. "You probably have a concussion."

He cast a pensive look down the empty street. "That guy… He's the one who blew up your car."

Eyebrows quirking, I stared off in the direction the man had run, but he'd be long gone by now, if he had any brains. Not only did he blow up my car, he'd nearly killed my buddy twice, and I didn't know if I could keep from shooting him the next time I saw him.

While I was distracted, Matsuda climbed to his feet, swaying hard, and I jumped up to catch him around the waist. "Easy. C'mon, let's get you back to the hospital."

Together, we stumbled toward the car, Matsuda's weight dragging me off balance, and his blood stained my suit.

"What about all the evidence around here?"

"I doubt there's much left to find in the rain," I grumbled.

"Yeah, but he had a gun with him."

Horrified, I turned to him. "He had a gun?"

"Yeah. It should be over there somewhere." He pointed a little ways down the street. "Along with Ide's."

Even though I'd checked him over, I asked, "He didn't shoot you, did he?"

"No." He sank onto my hood, cradling his head. "I'm okay. We should try and find it."

By we he obviously meant me. I called Ide and told him and Mogi to meet us, and while we waited, I rooted around for the gun. "Any idea who he was?"

Matsuda answered faintly, "He said his name's Anubis."

"Anubis? What the hell does that mean?" I plunged both hands into the gutter and dug around until I found the gun, an American-made submachine pistol with a high capacity magazine in the clip. It was waterlogged and muddy now, but the sight of it turned my stomach icy. "Matsuda." I turned to him. "You're really okay?"

He was still leaning on the hood, water flowing around his shoes, one hand holding his head, but he nodded. Even he wouldn't be dumb enough to lie about it if he'd gotten shot.

Ide's pistol lay near the first gun. A couple rounds were missing, and I remembered that the bullet recovered from Miyami's suicide had matched those from our standard issue M1911's. I slid Matsuda another long, concerned look. It must have been a really rough day for the kid.

Taking both guns to the trunk, I threw the assailant's weapon in an evidence bag, and removed the ammo from Ide's to dry.

 _I doubt we can get fingerprints off the gun, but we can try._

While I was there, I grabbed his Wacko Maria jacket and held it a moment, remembering how devastating it had felt to recover it from the dumpster this morning, to look at it, knowing full well it was his, and see the blood and damaged sleeve, and feel sick, wondering why he'd leave something he cared about so much in the trash. I'd been so sure he would have to be dead before he'd part with it, damaged or not, and finding it had disturbed me so badly, I couldn't even send it back to the station with Shinda and the rest of the evidence.

Breathing a sigh of relief and fingering the stiff, stained sleeve, I laid it aside, thinking it would probably have to go into evidence now. As I turned to him, I felt the urge to ask, again, what had happened today, but it just wasn't the time to push.

"You feel all right?" I asked, rubbing my forehead and sitting down next to him.

"I'll be okay." He winced again and licked his bleeding lip, saying quietly, "Thanks for saving my life."

"I got your back." Lightly, I slammed his shoulder. "Remember?"

He gave me a questioning look. "Yeah. You're not gonna yell at me?"

"I'm too tired." I listened carefully for any sign of Ide's cruiser, hearing nothing past the constant sprinkle of rain. "Try to stop doing stupid shit though. Seriously now. Enough's enough."

Matsuda gave a half-hearted laugh, and then we went through another long stretch of silence before he asked, "What'll I do if something happens to you?"

After the way he'd told me off at the hospital, insisting he didn't need—didn't want—me looking after him, I didn't expect that, and then I reassured myself he'd just been upset at the time. Of course, he wouldn't actually want me to turn my back on him.

"Nothing's gonna happen to me."

"You could die. Any of us could."

Finding Matsuda knocked out in the road nearly made me fall apart, and I didn't want to imagine what it would be like to lose any of them.

Picturing what they would do without me was equally painful. I didn't want to imagine Eriko as a widow, or my kids being fatherless, and I didn't want to imagine Ide talking at my funeral about how he'd known me for twenty years, or Mogi acting like we'd barely known each other, the way he had Misa. I hated to think of how Matsuda would collapse under his own guilt if I got killed over this case.

"I'm not going to die," I said finally, but it was nothing but a feeble promise.

"I know," he agreed quietly and lowered his head to his knees, groaning slightly.

Not sure what drove me to do it, I hooked my arm around his neck. "This will all be over soon." It was just as ridiculous as the last promise, but he accepted it as well.

"I know."

I did feel sure the case would be over soon—it had to be—I just didn't know what we'd be forced to sacrifice before the end.

"They know I shot Light," Matsuda murmured. "Miyami and this Anubis guy both tried to kill me today."

A freezing chill sped down my spine, and the fear in me turned almost immediately to anger. We had tried as hard as we could to prevent that very thing from happening, but it hadn't mattered, and I hated things I couldn't control. "Why didn't you say something to me sooner, Matsuda?" I asked gruffly.

Feebly, he shrugged. "I guess it didn't seem important before now."

"That's absolute _crap_! Hell, I never would have let you wander off by yourself again if—"

"Maybe that's why," he interrupted, not looking at me. "I'm glad you have my back—I'm not saying that—but…we won't get anywhere by hiding."

"We won't get anywhere purposely putting ourselves in danger either."

"I know… I'm sorry." He lowered his head again, a reminder that I shouldn't be yelling. "I wish I knew a way out of this. That's all."

"Let me worry about that." I watched a car speed around the corner and zip toward us. It looked like Ide's cruiser. "You just quit taking these unnecessary risks."

"Yeah. Okay."

"Really, Matsuda. Why are you acting like this? What are you trying to prove?"

Forehead wrinkled in confusion, he lifted his head to look at me again, like he was surprised I'd noticed he was out to prove anything, but, obviously, he was. He opened his mouth, and I thought he'd tell me the truth, but then he just shrugged and rubbed his bleeding skull. "Nothing, Aizawa. I just want to do my job the same way you want to do yours—without being questioned and scolded and side-lined every step of the way."

It left me speechless, and for the first time I had to think about the fact that if anyone treated me the way I had been treating Matsuda through a lot of the case, I would be furious. Just because he wasn't temperamental enough to explode on me for it didn't mean he wasn't angry.

The cruiser pulled up; Ide and Mogi hopped out. "What happened _now_?" Ide demanded, as I strode over to meet them.

I slid a glance at Matsuda. "He got into it with some freak calling himself Anubis. I got here just in time."

"Christ. See? This is why we told you not to take off by yourself!"

"Ide." I shook my head. "Not now, okay?"

He arched an eyebrow at me. "What? You're the only one allowed to give him a hard time?"

"Just not now. Come look at this gun." I walked over to throw open my trunk and show them the submachine gun I'd fished out of the gutter.

"Whoo." Ide threw his cigarette down to take it from me. "What'dya know? It's our TEC-DC9. I'd be surprised if there's more than one of these babies floating around Tokyo."

Mogi said, "So this Anubis character could be our shooter from the Shinjuku Prince."

I'd been so distressed at finding Matsuda beat up in the middle of the street, I'd barely thought about the make or model of the gun. I took it back and turned it over in my hand, studying it through the plastic, but Ide was right. It was the TEC.I couldn't help the wicked grin that uncurled over my lips. "Gentlemen. We have a murder weapon."

There was a long pause, and I knew we were all waiting for something that wasn't coming. Ide called to Matsuda suddenly, "Hey, kiddo! You got us the murder weapon from the hotel site!"

Even though I didn't approve of him shouting about police business in public, I couldn't help looking at Matsuda, waiting for the victory dance and obnoxious bragging that was supposed to follow. But he was just leaning against my car, and all he gave us was a half-hearted thumbs up and a weak smile. "You're welcome."

"Right," Ide muttered under his breath. "Now just stop almost getting killed to bring us this shit."

"He hit his head," I explained. "I better drive him back to the hospital."

"We'll see if we can find anything else around here," Mogi said, getting out a flashlight and pausing to study Matsuda. "His left arm needs stitches."

It wasn't like Mogi to get details wrong, so as I went back to the car I examined Matsuda's left arm; it looked okay, but I remembered the torn, bloodied sleeve of his jacket.

Still holding his head in his hands, he got in on the passenger's side.

"Do you feel dizzy or sick?" I asked, buckling my seatbelt.

"I've felt dizzy and sick all day."

Tomorrow, when he was doing better, I'd find out what exactly had happened with Miyami, and then I'd need to decide what to do with him. Detaining him outright had failed, but, hopefully, now that he'd apparently been through the ringer, he might be more compliant to the idea of getting off the case and lying low.

Suddenly, he asked, "Hey, Aizawa, this whole thing with Kira… Do you think it'll ever be over?"

"Sure. It's only been a few weeks," I answered, trying to sound reassuring. "We can't expect things to go back to normal right away. In any case, this investigation won't go on forever."

"You're right," he said, and it sounded like he was trying to be optimistic. "I have a feeling we're near the end of it."

"Me too," I agreed with a smile, not wanting to admit my own worries that Kira fanaticism would take generations to leave society completely. In fact, I felt sure Kira would become a myth, something people told their children about to keep them from misbehaving. For all we knew, all the legends and ghost stories made up over the ages had originated out of something very similar to a sociopathic teenager with a death note.

In the ER, Matsuda was clear enough of mind to fill out his own paperwork, and he was admitted to the hospital within the hour. Luckily, his knife wounds were shallow, but he had a concussion and a moderate fever. The doctors' biggest concern was how low on nutrients and how dehydrated he was, enough so that they decided to monitor him overnight.

As they were tending to his injuries, they discovered several comparatively deep slashes on the inside of his left arm, and that threw them into what could almost be described as a panic, calling for a psychological evaluation and everything.

While they were out of the room, I snagged his wrist and examined the cuts for myself. They were still fresh, but mostly scabbed over. "Is that a k?" I demanded, feeling sick. "Why would—?"

Utterly drained, Matsuda jerked away and leaned back in his pillow. "Miyami did that to me."

The fury in me billowed, and I had to sit quietly for several minutes, forcing myself not to consider all the implications of that explanation. It was sick. In the warehouse where we'd found Miyami's body, there had been a knife with a thin line of blood caked along its edge, but picturing that dark place and the deranged-looking Miyami we'd found with a bullet in his head was all bad enough. To imagine Matsuda being tortured in a place like that made me want to—

"I don't need a psych eval," he interrupted, tonelessly. "I'm tired. It'd be cool if you could talk them out of it."

I snorted my answer, still afraid of what I'd say if I opened my mouth when I was this angry. I stayed silent as the nurses and doctor returned to clean and stitch the letter some demonic piece of shit had carved into my friend's arm, thinking of how much I would have liked to have been there to show Miyami _and_ that psychopath Reaper that Matsuda wasn't theirs to fuck with.

When the doctors were gone again, I got up and paced around the room.

"Aizawa, don't worry about it," he called. "He's dead."

I couldn't help snapping. "Why didn't you tell me something on the phone this morning? Why didn't you ask for back up? Did he have you at gunpoint? What the hell happened, Matsuda?"

"I'll tell you about it tomorrow." He closed his eyes. "I don't want to talk about it right now."

The fury made me want to scream, but he didn't need that, and I forced myself to nod and be quiet.

After the way he'd lost it earlier, I didn't think a psychological evaluation would hurt Matsuda, but he didn't want it, so I stepped out to explain the situation to the doctor, and by the time I went back in, Matsuda had fallen asleep. I sat down and focused on getting myself to calm down.

Slowly but surely, we were making progress, and yet every day officers got killed in Kira's name brought us that much closer to having a massive killing spree on our hands. It wasn't possible to take every officer off the streets, and lately the government had been bowing down to Kira; they didn't seem interested in stepping in to help us. Possibly, people would continue trying to kill cops even after the case was solved.

Whoever the Reaper was, he obviously had access to police records, and he must have some power, but he was arrogant, thinking he could drag this out and not get caught. He'd better cut to the chase.

I glanced at Matsuda, sleeping peacefully despite how beat up and sick he looked. He'd come close to being murdered twice in one day, and I was sitting here thinking this maniac needed to cut to the chase.

 _That's exactly what he's doing, the fucker._

Would the killings even stop if Matsuda died?

If we could just capture one of the shooters, we might have some way to learn about this organization behind the murders, but even this Anubis guy had turned tail and run the second he'd been in danger, as if he'd rather be killed than get captured. Just like Miyami had apparently preferred suicide to arrest.

Similar mentality. Were they loyal, or were they truly that afraid of their boss?

The masked man I'd seen on the TV had been terrifying—raving mad, sadistically violent, gruesomely theatrical, and strangely charismatic—even if he couldn't revive Kira, he could show people that they didn't have to respect the police anymore, and it scared me to no end that he knew Matsuda's name and face; eventually, he would find him, and I wouldn't be able to protect him.

On the day I'd promised Matsuda I'd always have his back, I'd driven away feeling strangely good about that, despite my grief over having to leave the investigation. People normally got put off by my cynicism or bluntness, and I wasn't used to having people look up to me, let alone genuinely like me. That was the first time I'd felt like he was my friend.

Sentimental crap. My father had made it clear that he didn't think men needed friends _._ A man needed a good woman to stand beside him, and a legacy to leave behind. A man didn't need a lot of silly emotions bogging him down in his professional life, because it was a man's job to provide. When I'd graduated from the academy, he'd slammed me on the back and said, "Son, keep your nose to the grindstone and you'll be running this place before you know it. Team work is important, but remember, cops die, and if you want to go to the top, you have to look out for yourself."

Of course, while I was in the academy I'd met a guy I'd gladly have for a partner, and after we'd spent a couple years riding together, I'd decided Dad was wrong, and I had a partner I'd gladly take a bullet for. That feeling didn't extend to everyone though, and it had been a long, long time between meeting Hideki Ide and meeting any other officers I would rather die for than lose.

Dad would be disappointed to know I'd made friends. He'd say it was inappropriate—a man was supposed to keep his coworkers at work and join any men he did consider friends in the bar every month or so to smoke a cigarette, drink, and play cards. The two weren't supposed to mix.

Chief Yagami had been different. He'd treated his squad with such warmth and compassion, you couldn't help admiring him, and he'd had a way of making us all feel like family—a team that looked after its own. Matsuda came on late, but he'd been part of Soichiro's squad, and I knew he'd fight just as hard as I was to keep him from being killed. He definitely wouldn't call it a waste of manpower or a betrayal to the NPA.

I reached out to touch the kid's, clammy hand. I couldn't revive Soichiro, I couldn't redeem Light, I couldn't protect _everyone_ , and I couldn't erase the things that had happened in the last couple of weeks; but I damn well could keep the promise I made Matsuda six years ago and watch his back.

Ide, Matsuda, Mogi, and I had come too far to let this case destroy us.


	18. Chapter 18

**Part Four**

* * *

 _It comes in waves_

 _I close my eyes_

 _Hold my breath, let it bury me_

 _I'm not okay, and it's not all right_

 _Won't you drag the lake and bring me home again?_

 _Cause you know I can't do this on my own…_

* * *

 **Sayu**

* * *

As I regained consciousness, I recognized the resonating beep of the heart monitor flooding my head, and then I opened my eyes to the unsettling blankness of the room. An IV drip bag hung above me. It must be the hospital.

 _Matsuda…_

I thought I remembered seeing him stand over me, dark against the backdrop of this white void, but it was hard to tell if that had been real or not.

Outside, the sky was black against the lights of the city, but I had no way of knowing how long I'd been unconscious. A few hours, or a few days?

I sat up a little too quickly, gasping at the pain that split through my head, and fell back against the pillow at once. The last memory I had was getting punched in the face by one of those men, and the more I thought about it, the surer I felt that the one guy had been the same punk Matsuda fought outside of Yama's a couple weeks ago.

I didn't believe it could be a coincidence that that same gang had congregated around that same bar, let alone that they'd confronted me while I was observing the man in white, but it did seem excessive for them to beat me up, and, outside the lawlessness that action required, I worried it might have been some kind of message.

Time was of the essence, and finding Matsuda was paramount.

With a wince, I propped up on my elbows, slower this time, gazing carefully around the dim room. My mother sat in the chair at my bedside, eyes gently closed, chin resting on her chest. She looked older and frailer than ever, her silver hair glittering in strands against the brown, loose folds of skin sagging in a frown, and I hated to think of how much I must have worried her. Even though leaving her felt wrong, finding Matsuda felt like the only way to prevent even more violence and death.

Before I could clamber out of bed, though, a nurse just a few years older than me entered the room carrying a clipboard under one arm. She had an intelligent-looking face and a warm smile. "Oh, you're awake. That's good. How do you feel?"

As I became more aware I realized it was more than just the pound in my head that hurt. My face felt swollen, my stomach and sides burned, and stinging scrapes defaced my elbows and palms. I touched my throbbing cheek, only to find a gauze pad taped to it. "I'm all right," I answered, huskily, and leaned back again, waiting for her to leave.

But the nurse paced around the room, adjusting things, deliberately. "It's quite late," she explained. "Let's try not to wake your mother." She replaced my IV bag, and I toyed with the tube that fed cold fluids into my bloodstream. At last, she smoothed the blankets, saying, "The police came by while you were asleep. I assume they'll want to talk with you in the morning."

I sat up again immediately, this time shaking off the pain. "Who were they?"

She gave me a confused look. "Three detectives. I'm sorry, I didn't catch their names, if that's what you mean."

Three detectives would have to be Aizawa, Mogi, and Ide. Considering their connection to my family it wouldn't be strange for them to come and check on me, but it might also mean my mugging had some bearing on their case.

"Did they all go home?" I asked.

"I believe one is still around."

Then not much time had passed since my attack.

"You don't know his name?"

She shook her head. "Sorry, dear, no. I haven't seen much of him in the last few hours. He's been sitting with his friend."

Had another officer been injured? Not just any officer would be described as a friend though. It had to be one of them. "Another detective?" I asked, fighting to swallow down a lump.

"Sorry, I'm not sure. It's a young man." She was starting to look suspicious, and I knew I should stop asking questions, but my breath caught in my chest.

"Could you…describe him?"

Finally, she paused, obviously questioning my motives.

"I think he might be a friend of mine."

Reluctantly, the nurse nodded. "Well, let's see then. He's in his late twenties, maybe earlier thirties, shaggy hair… I don't remember much about him, but he has a handsome face."

It sounded like Matsuda, and for all I knew he'd been in the hospital for a while. "Could you please tell me what happened to him?"

"No, I'm not sure about that."

"Then are you able to tell me where he is?"

She gave me the room number and then added, with a reassuring smile, "I don't think there's anything too seriously wrong with him, young lady, so I wouldn't worry. You just try to rest."

Thinking furiously, I leaned back. If it was Matsuda, why would he be here unless he'd been attacked too?

At last, the nurse left, shutting off the light as she went.

I waited until I'd heard her steps vanish down the hall, and then kicked the blankets off and swung my feet to the cold floor. Matsuda might be only a couple rooms down, and I couldn't waste the opportunity to tell him about my conversation with Momo; besides, if he was hurt, I wanted to see him.

Quietly, I padded to the door, swallowing my guilt before it could hit me full-force, and checked both ways as I entered the hall. No one seemed to be around, and I didn't hear so much as a phone ringing in the distance. It must be pretty early in the morning.

Without knowing where Matsuda might be exactly, I picked a direction at random and started walking, limping slightly and wincing.

Talking to Matsuda alone might be a problem if his friends were watching over him; when they heard what I had to say, they might even be mad at me—especially after Aizawa freaked out over my involvement with the case—but I couldn't let that deter me.

Most of the doors hung open, at least, so I was able to pause and get a good look at each patient. None of them as much as stirred.

After the fifth room, I found Matsuda, lying on his side, facing the door. His eyes were closed, and his face looked perfectly smooth, his eyelashes long and dark against his pink cheeks. Deep, regular breathing filled the ward, and knew he was asleep.

It was such a relief to see him, I hustled in to stand over him, forgetting to check if he was alone or not first, and then stopped hard as I remembered to scan the room, but whoever had been sitting with him must be gone now.

I eased closer to the bed, heart starting to pound.

Bandages were wound around his head, and unnatural pink colored his cheeks, but despite his grim surroundings, he looked peaceful, soft, and naïve. The florescent lights spilling in from the hall accentuated his delicate features, and the longish hair clinging to his brow turned his boyish handsomeness almost pretty.

For all that, seeing him felt even more comforting than I'd expected, and I couldn't help laying a hand on his forehead. It felt like he had a fever.

"Touta?"

His eyelids barely flickered, and I thought it would be a shame to wake him when he looked so sweet and comfortable.

Gently, I traced the path of his scabbed knuckles—he must have been in another fight—down his tendons, to the blue veins in his wrist, where I found an ugly, perfectly round burn, coated in analgesic.

Swallowing hard, I leaned closer. "Touta?" I knew it was imperative that I wake him and tell him about my experience at Yama's, but now that I was here, watching him sleep, so relieved by his safety, I thought my heart would burst, and I couldn't stand to.

My fingers found their way to his forehead again, sweeping the hair back from his eyes.

At last, he shifted, murmuring some nonsense, and his mouth fell open.

"Where have you been?" I whispered. "I was so worried about you." His cheek felt hot but dry under my palm.

This time when he muttered, I thought I heard him say my name.

Watching him sleep so peacefully made me feel tired myself, and my aching head started to swim. Sighing, I went around to the other side of the bed and crawled up onto it, spooning his body and settling against it, arms around his chest.

For a while, I lay there watching him sleep and dwelling on all the things I'd lost, not just my father and brother and sister-in-law, but my normal life as a happy-go-lucky college student, and my dreams, and all my hopes for the future. Now, here I was, standing by like a little girl as more and more people died, and Matsuda seemed apt to become the next victim in that horrifying montage. Seeing him alive at least made me want to believe there was still hope for the future.

All the strength and protection my father had provided had been torn from my life, like an umbrella ripped out of my grip by the wind, and I didn't have even my older brother to stand in for him. I'd never see Light smile or hear him tease me or feel him next to me again. I felt like an orphan.

Matsuda wasn't old enough to substitute a father figure, and I didn't feel anything sisterly toward him. Still, his presence did reassure me, and I couldn't bear to lose that last, fragile shard of masculinity in my life.

"Touta, I'm so scared," I murmured, holding onto him even tighter. "I wish there was something I could do to protect you, but I can't even protect myself; it scares me not knowing what will happen next. I wish you could protect me."

With that, I snuggled closer to him, pressing my face to the back of his neck where the scent of him was strongest. His body felt warm against mine, filling me with desire, and I couldn't help planting a gentle kiss on the nape of his neck just before I closed my eyes.

As I was falling asleep, I thought I felt him squeeze my hand.

* * *

 **Ide**

* * *

"Ide, maybe this is a bad idea," Kei said.

Not answering, I stared across the street at the lounge. According to rumors, the yakuza used to own it, though, from the outside, there wasn't much sign of it. Several cars sat parked along the street, and the neon sign illuminated half the block, but all was quiet.

Since Mogi and I took the TEC-DC9 back to the station, Aizawa hadn't given any new orders; eventually, Mogi decided to go home, but I doubted I could sleep, so I'd wasted several hours at the station, going over the details of the case. In some ways, we seemed to be close, and in others, I could see how this might go on for months more. If the NPA could hold up…

At some point, while I'd been reviewing our information, it had occurred to me that finding the TEC gave us a reason to infiltrate the black market and try to uncover where it came from, but I didn't have any connections with the yakuza, and I doubted the others did either. What we really needed was someone older, like Captain Okoshi, who might know more about the mob activity in this town.

From the beginning, Aizawa and I had always tried to do things by the books, saying we didn't need to cut deals with criminals to get to the top, and now I regretted how idealistic and naïve we'd both been. Going to meet with the yakuza without a trustworthy in would be a suicide mission.

On the other hand, Matsuda was really showing me up, risking his life to solve this case. I'd almost decided that I would check out the couple of places around town I'd heard were run by the mafia, and that's when Kei had arrived.

I glanced over at her, and she stared back at me with uncharacteristic anxiety. At least it looked like she'd gotten some rest since this morning, clean hair falling neatly over her shoulders, wearing make up again, blue eyes popping with energy. At the station, she'd bounced up and harassed me until I agreed to tell her what I was doing, and then she insisted on tagging along.

Having back-up was the last pro I'd needed to convince me I could pull this off.

"Aizawa didn't tell us to do this," Kei reminded me, somberly.

"Aizawa can barely think straight anymore," I muttered under my breath and lit a cigarette.

"You seem really tired too…"

Expecting to find her teasing me again, I glared at her, but she returned the look with genuine concern. Sometimes, when we were alone together, she was actually tolerable.

"Also," she went on, "the yakuza don't seem like the kind of people you just drop in on, unsolicited."

"No," I agreed, taking a deep drag. "But this is the only way I know to make a connection with them."

"The yakuza may not even be around; they've been pretty quiet since Kira appeared."

 _"Somebody_ is selling these criminals illegal weapons."

"Yeah, but for all we know, they bought that gun in America and smuggled it to Japan."

There could be Kira supporters in the government who were involved in this crime spree. The guns could have come from America. I took a drag off my cigarette. "How easy is it to do that?"

She frowned. "With the right connections, it's fairly easy to smuggle anything out of America. At least, it used to be. I don't know if Kira's existence would have made it harder or easier than ever."

Personally, I could see it being easier. As long as criminals were careful to keep their names and faces out of the news, they could go on with their illegal activities. In fact, Kira could have made situations optimal for people in smuggling businesses since police around the world had chosen to bow down to him and had gotten slack in their jobs.

"Why did you come to Japan in the first place?" I wondered suddenly. "It's a strange time to want to be Japanese."

"I don't _want_ to be Japanese," she corrected mildly. "I _am_ Japanese. I've told you—my mother is Japanese, and my father is American. They met right here in Tokyo."

"You're still a gaijin," I reminded her. "And as a cop, I can only assume the decision to move to Japan had something to do with Kira."

"Sure. I wanted to help catch him. I was in college when Kira first got started; I followed the story almost obsessively, collecting every piece of information on it I could. I dropped out of school and started at the LAPD academy instead. By the time I was finished with that and had gotten enough experience under my belt to come here and try to join the taskforce, you guys caught him. That's all there was to it."

I glanced at her, mesmerized a moment by her glittering eyes. Compared to other women, she was so strange, from her manners to her attire; she'd always stick out badly, and she must know by now she'd never really fit in. She barely could read any kanji, she still got lost trying to find the supermarket, and I knew she'd have a hard time climbing rank unless she got in good with some superior or another; sleeping her way to the top might become her only option, but the idea was sickening and unjust, in my eyes, because she was a good investigator.

As for settling down and starting a family, that would be difficult too. Not many men would take to her abrasive, American demeanor, or her raging feminism.

In some ways, she seemed otherworldly to me—even Matsuda had said she reminded him of a goddess—a rare, untameable creature, too wild to be captured, too gorgeous to forget.

She was young. It was too bad her dreams weren't panning out so far, but she had more courage than a lot of the men I'd met. She didn't shy away from the things that distinguished her from us; in fact, she embraced them, shining like a diamond. Through working with her, I'd found a sweet side to her, also. I thought any man who did catch her should feel lucky.

That was all stupid, though. She'd been here long enough she must have a boyfriend by now, some witless progressive, like Matsuda, who didn't mind taking a gaijin home to meet his mother.

Aizawa said she flirted with me, and even though I didn't dare hope that might be true, I admitted to myself that, ten or fifteen years ago, I probably would have thrown myself at her.

Kei caught me staring, and this wasn't the time to mull any of that over, so I asked, "Why stay then? This is a terrible time to be part of the NPA."

"Are you going to quit?" she teased.

When I thought about Shuichi and the others, I couldn't even bear to consider quitting the NPA. "Me quitting would be a lot different than you quitting, Komagata. You've only been on for a year or two, and nobody likes you."

"Hey! People like me! It's _you_ people don't like! And anyway, I think it's a great time to be part of the NPA."

"Yeah? Why's that?"

Kei turned to me, grinning triumphantly. "When we crack this case, we'll go down as heroes. It's not as good as the Kira investigation, but it's something, and when it's over, I can return to the US with my honor."

I couldn't help twisting to face her full-on. "You're planning on going back to the US?"

Mischievously, she grinned at me. "Why? Would you miss me?"

Her impertinence was unbearable, her Japanese was shitty, her manners were _terrible_ , and she drove me crazy. "What's to miss?" I grumbled, flicking my cigarette out the window and getting out of the car. "I'll be glad to have you out of my hair."

As we crossed the road, I listened hard, but everything seemed perfectly calm, and I tucked my hands in my pockets, trying to settle the little waves of nervousness that churned in my stomach.

"Shouldn't we call for back up?" Kei wondered.

There weren't many options for back up at this point in time, but I said, "We're just going to see who's in charge around here. Even if it is the yakuza, they may not know anything about the TEC."

Kei and I walked into the club, both of us checking around carefully, and even though there wasn't an entry line, two huge bouncers in expensive suits stood in our way. The one was just a lot of fat. The other looked like pure muscle. Neither of them showed any sign of being capable of independent thought.

As we waited, I tried to look for any details that might give away the fact that the club was still under yakuza management. It was a swanky place. The light fixtures hanging from the high ceilings looked like real crystal, but the lights were turned down low, casting a bluish atmosphere. In the lobby, the hardwood floors shone like they'd been freshly polished, and walls were decorated with modern art paintings, live trees, and vases nearly as tall as me. To the left of the hostess station, a multi-leveled koi pond trickled peacefully in the silence. No sign of dirty dealings. In fact, if the yakuza wasn't in charge here, I might come back later to at least have a drink.

But the young man who came up the hallway to greet us screamed yakuza; I'd put him in his early twenties, and he had long hair which he'd bleached to be white. Like the others, he wore an expensive suit, but there were telltale signs of violence all over him—a horizontal scar cut across his right cheek and his knuckles looked like they'd been broken at least once. He concealed a piece on his hip, his gray eyes were as hard and as cold as lead, and he had the marked look of a practiced killer.

"Good evening," he said, scanning us over quickly, and I knew he'd noticed we were both carrying also—we weren't even trying to hide it. "Or should I say good morning? Table for two? Or would you like to sit at the bar?"

At this point, it would have been nice to know some kind of password that would get him to take me straight to the boss; I couldn't be as blunt as Aizawa about it, but I wasn't about to stumble around like Matsuda either. I had to play it cool. "As a matter of fact, we're here to look around."

"What are you the health inspector?" he sneered. "This is a high-class club, ojisan, not a sleazy joint."

"It's very nice," Kei commented. "I don't think he really meant we want to look around. We're on business."

"That's right," I agreed. "Strictly a business call. We'd like to talk with the man in charge, if possible."

He frowned, obviously aware of how suspicious it would look if he denied our request.

Sure enough, he nodded. "All right. It just so happens the boss is still here, but there is an entry fee of ten thousand yen."

"Ten _thousand_?" Kei blurted. "That's like a hundred bucks!"

"That's right, gaijin. It is a hundred bucks—we only take yen though. Cash."

Grumbling, she reached for her wallet.

I gave him the ten thousand without complaining. We'd get it back through an expense report, even if we had to wait for Aizawa's promotion, which now hung utterly on whether or not we solved this case.

"Thank you." Bowing smugly, he stuffed the money away into his own pocket. "Right this way, if you please." He turned on his heel to lead us up the hallway and into the main part of the club.

"This had better be one nice place," Kei complained.

"Don't whine," I told her. "Be professional for once."

"I'm not. I'm just saying it better be a nice club for ten thousand yen."

She didn't have to worry about that. The dining room was huge, cutting around in a large half circle, with a long bar taking up a good portion of the left side of the room. Blue lights glittered on its stone surface, and, on the right side, several levels of floors held different numbers of seats. The bottom level was spacious, with a round dance floor set between the clusters of small tables pushed close together and the stage where the band played. Jazzy music fluttered through the air. The second level was a bit less crowded, and the tables had a lot more room between them. On the top level, there were mostly booths so the people sitting there could have more privacy.

We followed the host up the stairs to the top level. All around us there were small streams of water, running down in waterfalls to a pond near the bar.

"This _is_ nice," Kei decided, just as a woman started to sing down at the piano. "I wish I'd brought better shoes." And then she slapped me, lightly, on the arm. "Think they'd let us have one dance?"

I did a double-take of her, cheeks turning a little warm, and then focused on surveying the people around us. She was just teasing me. We didn't have time. She wasn't honestly asking me to dance with her.

No sign of yakuza at least. The club was mostly empty in the first place, and the patrons I did see were well-dressed couples.

The host led us around to the far side of the room, over to a balcony overlooking the stage, where a wire-thin man sat alone at an isolated booth, two more thuggish bodyguards standing over him.

"Sir," the host said, bowing. "These two asked to meet with you." He laid the twenty thousand yen we'd given him down on the table. "They paid their entry fee." After that, he waited expectantly, like he thought we'd be thrown out immediately.

With beady eyes, the man in the booth looked up at us. He was quite a bit older than me—probably pushing sixty—hair thinning, but his suit was expensive, and his hand was decorated with several gaudy rings. He puffed on a cigarette before speaking in a bored tone.

"Well, well, well, Detectives. It's been a long, long, long time since any of you dropped by my place unexpectedly. I was just beginning to think we could all live in peace."

He snatched up the money suddenly, and only then did the host turn away and go to stand off next to one of the bodyguards, hands clasped together.

"Have a seat." The boss gestured for us to sit.

Kei and I exchanged an uncertain look. She seemed like she was holding herself together pretty well, but I saw thin worry lines growing across her forehead. We sat down close together.

"How did you know we're detectives?" I asked, lighting my own cigarette.

He laughed and started coughing. The wheezing went on for several moments before he could answer. "I've been around a very, very, very long time, and I've been in this business for years and years and years. I know _satsu_ when I see them. I guess I should have known you'd be stopping by after Kira was apprehended."

"You think we came to arrest you?" Kei wondered. "Just the two of us?"

He raised his shaggy eyebrows. "My dear, no, no, no. You two are obviously not out to arrest anyone at the moment; you two are snooping, likely trying to find out if I still operate at this location. The NPA has never had enough to arrest me, and they never will. It doesn't hurt that some of them have had their hands in my pockets, and vice versa."

I wondered which cops had been taking bribes from the yakuza, but that was something to sort out later.

"You're smart," I told him. "We aren't here for you, but we did come to see if you'd be here." I showed him my badge. "My name is Lieutenant Ide."

"Detective Komagata." She offered her hand, probably out of habit.

Nose wrinkling, he declined to shake it and kept his eyes on me. "I've never heard of you, Lieutenant Ide. It's as I suspected then—this Kira business has destroyed most of the NPA, hasn't it, and likely most of the men who used to be interested in ruining my business have been killed or else they've retired. Are you thinking of taking up their torch in the race to catch me?"

"Not me," I told him coolly. I didn't even know if Aizawa would be interested in going after the yakuza right away. Though he was ambitious, like in most parts of the world, the mafia was a sort of benign cancer that had to more or less be tolerated. Often, it seemed the most that could be done was to monitor them, waiting, tirelessly, for them to make a serious move. They'd never disappear completely.

He glowered at me. "Son, do you even know who I am?"

"At the moment, no." I shrugged and lounged back, one arm draped across my seat. "I'm guessing you're the man they call Tseng Rango, but I really don't know much about it."

He gave a short, wheezing laugh. "That's me—Tseng Rango. I've been running this side of Tokyo since you were in diapers. It's taken some audacity, Ide-san, to come here looking for me with nothing but a little girl as your back up."

Beside me, Kei puffed up, but she was smart enough to keep her big mouth shut for once.

"I didn't feel like I needed back up," I answered, dragging on my cigarette. "I assumed Kira killed off Tseng Rango."

"Oh, Kira," Rango sniffed. "Kira, Kira, Kira. If anything in this world is worse than the cops it's _Kira_. No. I managed to evade that brat Kira, though I have lost plenty of good men. You still haven't explained what you want, Lieutenant." He checked his watch. "It is getting late for an old man like me."

"We picked up a gun tonight," I explained, shooting wary glances at his entourage. "To be honest, we hoped you'd be able to tell us if it came from you."

At once, his gaze darkened. "You're here trying to incriminate me for selling illegal weapons in Japan? Surely, you must know that's very, very, very foolish."

"Oh, I don't know about that. There have been a lot of illegal weapons floating around lately. They have to come from somewhere. Why not from Tseng Rango himself, who's obviously just trying to get back on his feet after Kira nearly destroyed his whole business."

Rango's face paled. "I see. You think I'm the foolish one."

"I doubt that. Listen here, Rango." I put my cigarette out and leaned forward. "Kira is gone, and soon enough you and I will be right back to playing cops and robbers, right? In the meantime, we've got bigger problems at the NPA. You've probably heard."

"Yes, you're dropping like flies. I'm surprised you two have the courage to show your faces in this part of town. All the same, even if I _had_ sold this gun—and believe me, I doubt I did—what makes you think I'll even remember it?"

"Oh, you'd remember this one." I slowly reached into my jacket. "I'd like to show you a picture of it, if I may."

Languidly, Rango nodded, and I laid several photos of the TEC out on the table, watching his eyes widen with each one.

"Ah. I see what you mean. Still, I'm not sure I know anything about it."

Without hesitation, I laid another hundred thousand yen on the table, but he still glared at me, suspiciously.

"If I wanted to arrest you for selling it I would have brought a lot more men," I told him. "Right now, I'm just interested in whoever's been using it."

Finally taking the money, Rango sat back laughing. "Well, I have some good news and some bad news then, Lieutenant. The good news is, I've had nothing to do with this thing."

I raised an eyebrow. "You expect me to believe that?"

"You strike me as a diplomatic man, so I assume you know when and whom not to push. There's not been much of a market for illegal arms in Japan until very, very, very recently, and I wasn't insightful enough to capitalize on that particular opportunity." Rubbing his greasy fingers together, he gazed, regretfully, across the room. "I had no way of knowing some madman was going to take it into his head to try and destroy the NPA. Awful business, in my opinion."

"So you may as well come clean if you know anything," Kei suggested.

He barely glanced at her. "Well, my dear, the _bad_ news is I do know a bit about this gun and where it came from. I do know a bit about who _has_ been handling the illegal weapons trade on my turf lately."

"So?" I prompted. "What have you heard?"

He fixed a hard, scrutinizing eye on me. "Lieutenant Ide, you strike me as a man of high ambition, walking right into yakuza territory to ask petty questions about guns."

"This gun damn near killed a friend of mine."

"Ah, now, now, now, _guns_ don't kill people, Ide-san. You know all about that. This gun though…" He tapped a photo with his finger. "This is a rare thing to have in a country like Japan. Of course, it's been big news in the underworld. Who would be mad enough to bring something like this here and to use it against the NPA itself? Someone else with high ambition, no doubt, though in this case, the high ambition seems to be based off some…religious fanaticism, am I right?" He waved his hand, dismissively. "This particular man doesn't seem capable of thinking very far ahead if he actually believes this venture could ever possibly be successful. Do you know what I mean?"

"He wants to bring the man who killed Kira to justice," Kei said, and my stomach turned just slightly at those words. No matter what the rest of the world thought, that was not Matsuda—he wasn't a killer. "He thinks he can destroy the NPA, but he probably can't, and assuming he does kill the man who shot Kira, what then? Kira can't actually be revived."

"You're exactly right, my dear. This whole thing is a fool's errand. Almost a shame that so many officers are dying over something so wholly idiotic." He sighed and sat back in his seat. "I have no doubt he'll be caught soon enough, and in the meantime, I'm happy to not be involved."

"So, what do you know about this gun?" I insisted, waving another note under his nose.

He snatched it. "I've heard news about a man bringing large amounts of high powered weaponry into the country, including this semi-automatic pistol. Nothing is concrete. But, supposedly, these guns were purchased overseas by a man named Jun Utagawa."

I struggled to hide my surprise. "Utagawa?" That was the same man Niro Rei had named this morning, but despite what digging I'd done on Utagawa, he'd turned out to be just another dead end.

"Well," Rango rumbled, "according to my sources, Utagawa is an alias. I suppose he thought he was being cautious. However, as I've already said, there's little in this play at destroying the NPA that's cautious or well thought out, and it was easy enough for me to learn the man's real name."

Kei and I looked at each other, waiting quietly and impatiently for something that would help us.

Rango flashed an icy smile. "Hiro Miyami. That's the man you want."

" _Miyami_?" Kei blurted. "But he's dead!"

"Yes, so I've heard. Killed just this morning, as a matter of fact. Foolishness on top of foolishness, on top of foolishness." Rango smiled, grimly.

I seethed. Matsuda shot Miyami; undoubtedly, he did it out of self-defense, but go figure we'd need the man alive. Once again, we had nothing.

Rango went on. "From what I've heard, I highly doubt he had the money to purchase as many fire arms as he had brought over, so I suspect he has some benefactor who sent him as an emissary to gather the machinery under an alias."

Kei looked at me, saying quietly, "In that case…the Reaper might have bought those guns himself, using Miyami as a tool to do it."

Matsuda had told Aizawa that Miyami had been acting as the Reaper's middle man, presumably so the boss could keep his hands clean, but it reinforced the theory that the Reaper, whoever he was, had a lot of wealth and power.

Tseng Rango got up unexpectedly. "I'll make a deal with you, Detectives. I'll let you both walk out of here with your lives. In return, I expect you to forget all about this meeting. Forget all about this place. Until the day comes when, as you so cutely put it, Lieutenant, we get to play cops and robbers again, the police have nothing on me. But…" He leveled a threatening look on us both. "I never want to see either of your faces ever, ever, ever again, for as long as I live."

"How am I supposed to promise that?" I grumped. "The difference between you and me is that I take orders."

"Well, with any luck, the man you take orders from will never again ask you to come into an establishment of mine. Not this one, obviously. It's about to close up for good." He took a moment to gaze around the room, drinking in its every detail with a calculating, unsentimental eye. "Kira. I understand what he was trying to do. Who among us doesn't want to live in a world we see as being more decent than the one we've inherited? Who among us is not a dreamer for something we perceive to be perfect? Do I think a world without the police could ever possibly be perfect? No, not particularly. Do I want a world where I am free to do as I please? Of course, I do. Kira changed the game, though—our game of cops and robbers. Without any success at making the world a truly better place, he interrupted my business, and yours, and it will take some time still before we can return to our own endeavors. It is a world changed, without a doubt, though, clearly, a world where an NPA lieutenant comes crawling to Tseng Rango for answers about an sub machine gun that nearly killed one of his friends is not a better world."

I stared down into the polished table, and my reflection scowled back at me. That turd, Light, seemed like he would get the four of us killed, even after his death—it was almost inevitable—but I wondered if he would have been happy to know things were turning out this way. It'd be nice to think something decent of him, something along the lines of saying, _of course_ , Light wouldn't want to see good police officers die in the line of duty; but then, we had been good police officers—Aizawa, Mogi, and I were some of the best, to say nothing of Soichiro—and he hadn't shown even a shred of regret for putting any of us in danger.

"The line between what's good and evil has been corrupted," Rango mused. "Who stands on which side of that line now, Ide-san? Surely this man calling himself the Reaper believes he fights on the side of good, and you believe that of yourself as well. Men are merely mortal, though—Kira was merely a man, I suppose—and we all must die."

I stared up at him, trying to make sense of his philosophical diatribe.

"I wonder who can return the delicate balance between crime and justice now."

Inevitably, I thought of Shuichi, and all his drive and determination. Even in the academy, I'd seen his passion and potential for leadership, and I'd told myself I wanted to follow him, no matter where he went. Without jealousy, without rivalry; I'd seen him, even then, as a sort of superior. When I remembered how stubbornly he'd stood up even to his own commissioner and director, out of honor and loyalty, I had no doubt that if anyone could fix the NPA and return the balance Rango was talking about, it was Shuichi Aizawa.

But Rango said, "Perhaps no one. In the meantime, as I see it, the NPA is fighting to protect its own, those few who have chosen to fight on, and that is something even the coldest mafia boss can understand. I wish you luck on the case, Detectives."

With that, he left the booth, and his bodyguards followed him. As he passed the host, he said, "Show our guests to the door, and see to it that they get to their vehicle safely."

Suppressing a sigh, I got up, and Kei pressed close to me as we made our way through the club and back to the exit. As we returned to the cruiser, I thought about what Rango had said. It was true that our real motivation in this case was to protect our fellow officers, and in the case of me and the other three, our personal friends. Outside of that, it didn't seem like there was much to be done. Hiro Miyami, if he did purchase the guns, was dead now. He'd obviously distributed them throughout whatever syndicate the Reaper was running, but again we were back to the conclusion that the only thing that could break this case wide open was to discover the identity of the Reaper himself.

"Dammit," I muttered, slamming my car door. "Just another dead end."

"Well, Matsuda would be proud of you," Kei said, letting out a long, slow breath, like she'd been holding it a while. "That was a risky."

"Matsuda's right about one thing, though—we're not going to solve this case without taking any risks, and I'm done letting him take all of them by himself."

"You were really good, though. I-I mean…you handled it really well."

Somewhat startled, I turned to her, and she smiled when our gazes touched, shyly, but sincerely.

I smiled back. "Thanks."

Kei tilted her head, keeping eye contact with me. "You should smile more," she decided, after a long pause. "It makes you look kind of…" She lifted her hand, like she'd thought to touch my face, but then dropped it in her lap again.

I turned away, muttering, "There's hardly anything to smile about these days."

"I know," she murmured, and hesitated again. "So, what now? Isn't there any evidence at all connecting Miyami to the Reaper?"

"We tailed him for days on end," I reminded her, starting the car. "He never led us anywhere worth going, except to that warehouse, which is where he killed himself."

"Too bad we didn't get to question him in person, huh?"

"Yeah. That would have been ideal." That dumb bastard had to take his life. He must have _known_ something, because according to Aizawa he'd checked out the second Matsuda had an advantage over him.

We began driving again. Kei waited almost ten minutes before saying, "Ide, it's past three in the morning. Maybe for now the best thing to do is to go home and get some sleep."

I knew she was right. The chances of getting any further today weren't likely.

"Even the yakuza has to sleep," she went on. "You and Aizawa seem to be the only ones who missed the memo about the importance of sleep."

It made me feel a little like an idiot to hear her say that. What was I thinking, running around at three in the morning without any sleep? Of course, we couldn't get anywhere else tonight.

"We'll get a fresh start tomorrow morning," she suggested. "Matsuda will probably be out of the hospital by then, and if we're lucky even that crank Aizawa got some rest."

Nodding, I turned toward the station so I could take her back to her car, though part of me regretted having to do it.

I lit another cigarette. "Let's say Tseng Rango told the truth and the yakuza _is_ out of the picture, and these people are getting their guns somewhere else."

"In that case," she answered with uncharacteristic solemnity. "Whoever's at the bottom of all this would have to have enough money to smuggle guns into the country without the help of the Japanese black market."

We cruised up the mostly empty street, and I tried to think of anyone who fit that profile, but I wasn't any L or Near, and I couldn't pull suspects out of thin air.

"I'm getting a little tired of cold trails," I grumbled.

"You know," she told me after a while, "I understand that you guys have a personal interest in this case, and that makes you want to solve it as quickly as you can, but this isn't the time to lose hope. Whether it's happening as fast as you'd like it to or not, we are making some progress. We got a murder weapon tonight."

"That's true, and it's great, but the only people left who might be able to tell us anything about this guy calling himself the Reaper are probably the shooters themselves, and they're hell bent not to get caught."

"I understand that, Ide, but that doesn't change the fact that we _are_ getting somewhere, slowly but surely. All it takes is one of them to mess up and get arrested, and then we should be able to find out everything we need to bring the boss man down."

Judging by the way men seemed like they'd rather die than be arrested, these people probably wouldn't be eager to tell us anything. Considering that they believed in the divinity of Kira, they probably wouldn't even believe the police could protect them from their boss.

"Tomorrow," she suggested, when some more silence had passed, "if you want, I can call some of my contacts in the US and see if any of them have heard anything about guns being smuggled out of the country lately. I'm not saying it'll yield any results, but I can try."

I just nodded, feeling too tired to even answer. Sleep was probably next on the agenda, but out of everything I could do with my time, it would be the least effective.

I wondered what Aizawa would say to that, after I'd nagged him all week about not pushing himself so hard and going home to Eriko.

My radio buzzed and a fuzzy voice spoke up, somewhat desperately, "This is Lieutenant Toru Shinda… I need back up… Two officers are already down…"

"Shinda?" I looked automatically down at the radio. Shinda had remained one of the only other detectives at the station willing to help us. He'd been the first one called to the site of Miyami's death this morning and had immediately radioed for Aizawa to come meet him. Any time we asked him for anything, he came through for us.

The lazy voice of dispatch answered, "What's your position, Lieutenant?"

Shinda rattled off some address not far from us. "Arai has been shot… I think Keki is dead… We need back up immediately!"

I snagged the radio. "Dispatch this is Ide. Detective Komagata and I aren't far from there. We'll head over."

"Copy that," dispatch replied. "Additional back up and an ambulance are on the way. ETA 25 minutes."

"Twenty-five minutes is a long time," Kei said with a frown.

"We'll be there in ten," I told her, and turned the lights on.

She sighed. "I guess you're not sleeping tonight either. Too bad. I was just about to invite you back to my place for sake and hot tubbing."

"That's not sleeping, Kei."

"I know."


	19. Chapter 19

**Sayu**

* * *

It seemed like I'd only been asleep for a moment before I felt Matsuda stir beside me, and when I opened my eyes, I found him sitting up, staring back at me, hair tousled, expression unguardedly boyish. His face looked even warmer than before.

His hand lay near mine, and my cheeks flushed too.

"Hi," I whispered, sitting up, unsure what else to add when I was curled up in bed with him.

"Sayu?" He glanced around the room like he was trying to decide if he was dreaming or not. "What are you doing here?"

"I…" Sheepishly, I tucked a strand of hair behind my ear. "My nurse told me you were here, so I came to see you."

He still wouldn't look at me; I could tell he was embarrassed.

"I'm sorry," I told him. "I can leave if you want."

Matsuda answered immediately. "No, no that's okay. I mean, it's cool. I just wasn't… You surprised me. Where's your mom?"

"Still in my room. She was sleeping when I left."

"She'll probably be worried when she wakes up." Something dark entered his eyes, and his voice turned gloomy too.

"I don't think she'll mind that I came to visit you."

Still glaring across the room, he nodded, eyebrows severely slanted, eyes lightless.

It was such a strange expression on his normally blithe face, I couldn't help taking his hand again. "What happened?"

"Nothing." He ran his fingers through his hair. "I got jumped when I was walking home." He blinked like he'd just remembered something, and then took a long look at the chair beside his bed. "Where's Aizawa?"

So Aizawa had been the one sitting with him. I was lucky I'd missed him, or I might have gotten another lecture. "I haven't seen him."

Finally, Matsuda met my gaze. He seemed so much more serious than the last time I'd seen him. Granted, that hadn't been a nice night, but at least he'd looked like himself, optimistic and haphazard, trying his hardest to do a good job setting up Rei. Looking into his eyes now, I felt like he'd lost some of his naiveté and spirit.

"What about you, Sayu?" he questioned gently. "Are you okay?"

The tender sound of his voice sent a cluster of butterflies flurrying through my stomach, but I nodded. "I'm fine. Those punks you were fighting with the night we met Miyami attacked me—"

Suddenly, Matsuda winced, shook loose of my hand, and turned away again.

It was so strange, I sat, bewildered, for several moments, expecting him to be angry.

Instead, his voice turned softer than ever. "That Troy guy, right? Why would he attack you?"

"It was weird." I continued to study him, trying to figure out what was wrong. "I ran into this strange guy at Yama's. I was just watching him go down the street, and Troy and his gang came out of nowhere. They said they were gonna teach me a lesson for spying."

Matsuda's forehead wrinkled in confusion. "That is weird. Who was the guy?"

"I have no idea. I saw him talking to Momo, but other than that… He was just creepy."

I shuddered, and his look turned sympathetic. In a hushed tone, he said, "I'm glad you're all right."

"You too." I leaned into him, resting my cheek against his shoulder; his arm snaked around my waist, hand resting just above my hip. I wasn't expecting it, and I took a moment to cherish the sensation of his hands on me before reassuring him, "They didn't hurt me very bad. Maybe they were trying to scare me more than anything." I touched my cheek, remembering the way it had smashed against the uneven sidewalk. They had definitely scared me, and they had definitely hurt me.

Matsuda spat. "Those fuckers."

I stared at him, surprised to hear him use such strong language.

"When this case is over, I'm gonna go down there and arrest every last one of them, even if I have to do it all by myself."

"Hey." I sat up again, cupping his cheek in one hand, but my heart clenched at the sight of the uncharacteristic scowl on his lips and the tortured feelings swimming in his eyes. "Hey. What's going on? You act like you want to do everything by yourself all the sudden."

"No," he growled. "I never wanted to do any of this by myself. I just…" He sighed. "I don't know. Sorry, Sayu. I had a bad day."

"That's okay." I brushed my thumb down the smooth skin of his cheek. "You're safe now."

We leaned back together against the pillow, and Matsuda settled his jaw, while I listened closely to the sound of him drawing deep breaths. I squeezed him tighter after a few moments had passed. Even if he wasn't acting totally like himself, it comforted me to feel him breathing in my arms. "Where did you go for three days?" I stroked his busted knuckles again. "I was really worried about you."

"I'm sorry. I wanted to get some answers…but it seems like I just wasted my time."

He sounded as if he was on the brink of giving up completely. I squeezed his hand. "You're all right, though. That's what's important."

"I guess. But as long as that guy is out there, it's just a matter of time before he gets someone I care about."

I'd been following the case the best I could by watching and reading the news, so I knew there was a disturbing amount of civilians supporting the systematic execution of the NPA, but talking to Matsuda, I felt like it was even worse than I knew. I wanted to understand what was going on, and again I thought it was strange that the others had put him in protective custody over the drive-by incident with Rei. In fact, the deeper I looked into all these events, the more it seemed like Matsuda stood at the center of them.

"Just don't do anything like that again, all right?" I held him tighter. "You scared everyone."

Unexpectedly stony, he grumbled, "They would have tried to stop me."

That was probably true. When I thought back on how upset both Aizawa and Mogi had been when they came to my house, I knew they'd been beyond worried about Matsuda, and they wouldn't have allowed him to do anything reckless.

"They were trying to protect you."

Matsuda jerked away. The stoniness turned to utter defiance. "I didn't join the NPA to be protected and ask other detectives to put their lives on the line to save me. Why doesn't anyone understand that?"

Propping up on my elbows, I searched his expression. The sullenness that had been haunting his eyes since he woke up had turned to genuine anger, and that was something I hadn't often seen on his face. It left me not knowing exactly who he was, but I thought I understood. I'd done the same thing, risking my life to try and help the investigation along, like it was my duty in carrying on the Yagami family name.

Suddenly, I felt selfish and immature, and I wondered if he could have avoided some of this trouble if I hadn't done all that.

"Touta," I sat up on my knees, taking his flushed face between both my hands. "It isn't about how capable you are or how much you want to help, it's about the way they'd feel if something happened to you."

For an instant longer, he glared at me, and then he blinked as the words hit home, and the expression softened gradually, back to annoyance, and eventually to understanding.

"I don't think Aizawa took you off the case because he doesn't realize you're a detective. He did it because he didn't want to risk losing you completely."

He lowered his gaze.

Sighing, I sat back. "I'm guilty of the same thing, and I know it. I'm sure I've scared my mother—and you—more than necessary."

"So, what should we do?" he asked quietly, but still with a sliver of outrage. "Admit that they're right, step back, and let them handle it without us, like we're helpless, little kids?"

I couldn't help laughing. In that inferiority complex, I heard an echo of myself.

"I'm serious, Sayu."

I lifted his hand to kiss his scabbed knuckles, and he gave me a bewildered look.

"We can show them they're wrong about us without being stupid, can't we? I promise not to go off on my own again if you do too."

Hesitantly, Matsuda dropped his gaze, rubbing the back of his neck, and spoke apologetically. "I'm…not sure you can help me anymore, Sayu… That is…things have changed… It's too dangerous." He lowered his head in a small bow. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry." I waved him off. "It probably is for the best, and I doubt I have a choice."

Mom knew everything now—she must—and she wouldn't let me carry on.

"Yeah, but I'll miss working with you," he murmured.

"Me too," I agreed, somberly. "But, you'll be okay without me—just stick to what you're good at, and do what your captain wants."

Traces of contempt lined his voice as he grumbled, "My captain wants me to sit this out."

"Well, you do have a head injury," I told him, gently, and swept the hair from his eyes so I could look into them. "There will be other cases, Touta. If you just hang in there, I think you'll realize you don't have to prove anything to anyone, and you'll start to understand your place."

Dad said that to me a long time ago when he'd found me crying in my room over the fact that I'd never be as smart and promising as Light. I'd always been proud of my big brother, but jealous too, and I'd admitted to my father, in a vague, childish way, that I didn't see how he and Mom could ever be as proud of me as they were of him.

I'd never forget the way he'd placed me on his knee, or the safe feeling of his arms around me. I could still hear his voice, stern, but gentle, whispering in my ear that they were proud, and that it would take some time to discover my own strengths.

At the time, I hadn't understood very well what he'd meant, but I'd trusted and loved him with all my heart. Now I had to discover his meaning alone.

Matsuda burst into a quiet but bright smile, eyes lightening until he looked much more like himself. "That's so like Soichiro-san, Sayu. He told me something kinda like that, once, about teamwork. He said everybody has their strengths and weaknesses, and if you just do your best, as much as you can, together, we can do anything." He clutched my hand, tone turning reverent. "You're really his daughter."

Tears stung my eyes, but I smiled too. "I miss him."

"I miss him too," he husked. "No more being stupid and making people worry. For him. I mean, he'd be so mad at us…"

I nodded, touching my bruised cheek. "I think so too."

Touta laughed a little, and his cheeks flushed again. He whispered, "Sometimes…when Aizawa gets mad at me, I think he sounds a little like Soichiro-san. He's not as patient, and he cusses more, but he says sort of the same things."

"Yeah, I noticed that."

His eyebrows popped up. "He yelled at you?"

"A little bit."

Touta gave a commiserating sigh. "It sucks, huh? I don't like it. Let's be smart from now on, deal?"

"Deal," I giggled.

"Good, so first things first…" He swiped his fingers through his bangs, thoughtfully, and I got almost overpowered by the urge to kiss him, but he said, "What were you doing in Kabukicho?"

"Oh, yeah," I said, slowly. For a moment, talking about my father had made me feel like he was nearby, a shining light encompassing everything; now, as I remembered how we had to carry on without him, that there was danger he couldn't protect us from, the world looked dark again. "I was looking for you. It was a long-shot, but I did find something out—something important."

His eyebrows raised in surprise. "You found something out? Geez, Sayu, maybe you should be a detective."

"Yeah, maybe." I still had no idea what I wanted from life, but sitting there with him again renewed the possibilities in my mind for what I had ahead of me, whether Daddy was there or not. "Anyway, I don't actually know anything, but I think I found a way for you to get some more information."

Briefly, I told him about my adventure in Kabukicho and the strange meeting I had with Momo in the supply closet. I didn't leave anything out, but I made sure to downplay some of the things I knew would upset him concerning how dangerous the situation had been.

When I was done, he frowned deeply. "Could be a trap."

"Yeah, maybe. But maybe if you take Aizawa-san with you it'll be okay. Momo was pretty explicit about not getting the other cops involved, so maybe he could stand guard outside."

Releasing me, Matsuda eased himself off the bed and stretched his arms over his head. He found his clothes nearby and started to change.

Even though there wasn't any time to waste, I was a bit disappointed that this quiet moment between us had to end so suddenly, and I watched him pull the hospital garb off, fascinated by the movement of supple muscles in his back, and then politely turned away. When he came to sit down and put his shoes on I was interested to find him wearing a pair of blue jeans. They looked good on him, though, and I could get used to the casual look.

"You should come too," he said suddenly. "Obviously Momo trusts you, and it might put him more at ease if you were there—last time I saw him…I wasn't exactly nice to him."

"I don't think my Mom will let me…"

Matsuda mulled that over a moment, nodding. "Yeah, she won't. Maybe we can go and come back before she wakes up."

Skeptically, I told him, "We just agreed we're not going to do anything stupid."

He got up and faced me, looking serious, but also strong. "It won't be stupid. You'll be with me—I won't let anything happen to you." He offered me his hand.

Smiling, I reached out and took it.

Unannounced, Aizawa entered the room, carrying a large cup of coffee and yawning. He paused at the door to stare blankly at us, like he couldn't make sense of what he was seeing. "What's going on?" he wondered.

"Oh, Aizawa. Welcome back!" Matsuda turned to him, some of the old energy restored to his tone. "Hey, great news! Sayu found a lead while she was looking for me. I was just about to go call you."

"Lead?" Aizawa rubbed the bridge of his nose. "What lead? Wait. Never mind that. Sayu, what happened?"

"There's no time," Matsuda decided before I could answer. "We've gotta go back to Yama's and talk to Momo."

Aizawa sighed like it was the last thing he could stand to hear. "No. You stay here. Ide and I will go check it out."

Expression firm, Matsuda stood up to his full height in a subtly challenging demeanor. "Momo asked for me specifically."

"Cute," Aizawa snorted. "But, I don't really care."

"I'm not staying here while you and Ide check it out."

For a long time, Aizawa stared at him, totally floored, not seeming to know what to say, but he scowled and grumbled to himself and rubbed his eyes. "What's gonna be enough for you?" he wanted to know at last. "Concussions, near stabbings, torture, and you just wanna keep right on going."

My heart fluttered, and I looked Matsuda over again; he was bandaged up on his left forearm, but for the most part he seemed to be all right. I stared a long time at the circular burn on his wrist though, thinking it looked like it had been made by a cigarette.

"That's what makes me a good detective," Matsuda told him, with a somewhat smug grin and a thumbs up.

"It makes you an idiot," Aizawa corrected shortly.

Matsuda showed him a different finger.

Aizawa's thick brows drooped low over his eyes. "Corporal, you'd better remember who's in charge around here before you get a boot up the ass." Still, he didn't sound as pissed as I would have expected, and I assumed he was glad to see Matsuda acting more like himself.

"Yeah, you're in charge, so you can come, Captain."

"Oh, thanks. Glad I have your permission." Aizawa continued to glower at him, sipping his coffee miserably, like he would rather just lie down somewhere and go to sleep.

"But I'm going too, and I need Sayu to come along." Matsuda grabbed his coat off the nearby chair.

"Sayu? _"_ Aizawa turned that glare on me.

It was scary, and I wasn't ready for it. I stammered, "I-I…that is…Matsuda thinks it'll help if I'm there. Momo trusts me."

"Oh, well I wouldn't want to make that scumbag uncomfortable. Why am I even arguing with you about any of this? The answer is no. She's not going, and I wish you wouldn't either, Matsuda. That Anubis guy is still out there."

I stared at him. "Anubis?"

"Yeah. The crazy sonnova… The _madman_ who blew up my car attacked Matsuda tonight."

Again, my heart threatened to stop in my chest. I had known these detectives were in danger, but a car bombing? "I didn't know your car blew up."

"Of course, you didn't know. You're not on this investigation. Anyway, this Anubis freak is the reason you're in the hospital to begin with, Matsuda. You can't believe he'll leave you alone."

"No, but he doesn't know where I am," Matsuda decided.

"Or he does. He could follow us."

"You're good at spotting tails, though."

"Don't try to flatter me. The answer is no."

"Momo warned me about Anubis," I announced, a little loudly, before Matsu could argue. "He said to watch out for Anubis and Osiris."

They both exchanged a look. "What's that mean?" Matsuda asked Aizawa.

Irritably, his captain muttered, "Does it look like I know?"

"Anubis and Osiris were Egyptian gods of death," I explained.

Aizawa jerked like he was waking up suddenly. "Death?"

"Yeah. Osiris was the god of death, and Anubis was his assistant."

"Wow," Matsuda said. "How do you know that, Sayu? I guess smarts really run in the family."

I laughed. "No, no. Hey, I'm fresh outta high school here. I know all kinds of useless information."

Matsuda continued to look impressed, but Aizawa seemed annoyed. "Oh, I didn't even think to ask for your expertise. Why is that? Maybe it's because none of this has anything to do with you, Sayu."

"Aizawa." Matsuda frowned at him, tone skirting close to scolding.

"Sorry," Aizawa grumbled. "It's true though. And we still don't know what any of that means, whether they were gods of death or not."

"Maybe Momo will explain it," Matsuda said enthusiastically. "We should stop wasting time and get going."

"You have a head injury. You really shouldn't be going anywhere."

"I feel way better."

"Matsuda, come on, don't be stupid—"

"That's my specialty, right? Being stupid."

Exasperated, Aizawa rubbed the bridge of his nose. "That doesn't mean you have to go out and do stupid things on purpose. Just—"

Matsuda's voice finally turned agitated, and he simply snapped, "I'm going, Aizawa," not leaving any room for argument.

For a short moment, silence controlled the room while they glared at each other, having a battle of wills, and then, Aizawa sighed.

"Fine. You've made it pretty clear I can't take you off this case. Just hang on a sec while I find Yoko."

"Oh." Touta's tone dropped. "Yoko?"

"She's here, so she may as well back us up." Abruptly, he left the room, and I heard him grumbling curses to himself all the way down the hall, as if he was just a thousand percent done with Matsuda.

Stepping closer to Matsuda, I murmured, "Maybe he's right. If you have a head injury, you probably shouldn't be going anywhere."

Eyebrows rising, he turned to me. "Don't you have a head injury too?"

"So maybe neither of us should go. We just agreed not to do anything stupid."

"Right." Matsuda shrugged. "But you know Momo won't talk to Aizawa and Ide." Voice turning tired, he added, "Besides, I really need this case to end soon."

Unable to argue with that, I watched Aizawa return with a woman several years older than Matsuda, but very pretty, with hair like black velvet, and heavy eyeliner. Her eyes were an unusual shade of gray-blue, but they lit up to look almost cornflower when she saw Matsuda, and her icy pink lips turned up in a lascivious smile.

"Hey, Matsu. Feeling better?"

A certain caution filled his voice. "Yeah. Hey… Thanks." Shifting back and forth, he rubbed his bandaged head, gaze darting nervously around the room.

With the soft swiftness of a cat, Yoko glided over to stand in front of him. "I was worried about you." The gentleness in her voice made me burn with jealousy.

"Let's go," Aizawa ordered. "We'll talk to the doctor on the way out. Hopefully they'll let you go without any problems." He sounded like he probably wanted the exact opposite of that.

The three of them moved toward the door, grouped close together. I watched Yoko touch Matsuda's arm, fingers gliding sensuously up his muscles.

"Wait for me!" I cried suddenly, scrambling off the bed. "I'm coming too!"

Stopping hard, Aizawa shook his head. "No, no. You're not going. I already said that."

"Momo asked for me and Matsuda, not Matsuda and a passel of cops."

"I don't care what that bastard asked for," Aizawa spat. "I'm not dragging Soichiro Yagami's daughter back to that dump."

Yoko smiled at me slyly. "It's nice that you want to help, Sayu-chan—"

"That's Sayu- _san_ to you, onee-san." I glared at her before turning back to Aizawa, trying to think like Light. "Like it or not, I am involved in this case, and I can help. I've talked to Momo more than once now, and he trusts me. Isn't that something the police usually want to have on their side? An intimacy with their suspects?"

From the way Aizawa scowled, I knew he realized my presence could actually be beneficial to him, and that he was conflicted over it.

Just to make sure, I added, "I know the way. I'll follow you if you don't take me along."

Aizawa's eyes flashed. "You think I can't make you stay here?"

"What if you can't? Anyway, I'd feel much safer if I could be with you, and if I go by myself…" I shrugged. "Who knows?"

Matsuda looked at him. "She could get hurt."

"Sachiko can make her stay here," Aizawa decided immediately.

"I don't know. She's pretty far down the hall."

"C'mon, Aizawa-san," I pleaded. "I promise this'll be the last time. I'll go tell Mom I'm with you, and she won't worry. After that, I swear I'll get off the case." I put my hand over my heart.

He continued to scowl at me.

I played my ace. "Don't you guys need more civilians who actually want to help the NPA instead of bring it down?"

At that, his face transformed from furious stubbornness to furious resignation, he exhaled sharply, like he was really trying to keep his temper, and muttered, "I definitely don't agree with this."

"I'll be responsible for myself. I'll—"

"No. _I'll_ be responsible for you, so you'd better listen to me and do what I say. There's no way your mother will survive if something happens to you."

It was a sobering statement that rang with absolute truth and genuine concern. I nodded gravely. "Yes, sir. I promise to follow orders."

"You're not doing a good job so far," he grumbled.

They gave me enough time to dash back to my own ward and change clothes. Mom was still asleep, so I scrawled her a short note saying I was with Detective Aizawa and the others, promising I was safe, and that I'd be back soon.

I met the detectives in the hallway and grabbed automatically onto Matsuda's hand, heart beginning to beat a bit wildly. I had to admit I was reluctant to lose track of him again.

He smiled down at me, and his fingers interlaced with mine. I knew everything would be okay.

* * *

 **Ide**

* * *

Reaching Shinda's location took over ten minutes. The streets were empty, but the few cars parked along the side of the road had bullet holes in them, and car alarms screamed, a grating, constant sound. The streetlight directly over Shinda's hood had gone out, the night illuminated by the red and blue flashes from two cruisers.

One was a mess, bullet holes riddling its hood and roof, several windows shot out, and two flat tires. Inside, Shinda ducked low, gun out, and Detective Arai was slumped over in the passenger's seat. I didn't see any sign of Keki. They were both relatively new to the force, but they acted like they wanted to help us, when no one else was listening, and in a way, they reminded me of Aizawa and I back when we first started, sternly swearing our allegiance to justice, having long talks late at night about what was and wasn't proper conduct for a police officer, all fired up for our new careers.

And at the same time, they reminded me of that goofball Matsuda when he was a rookie, stupidly throwing his life away on a case like the Kira investigation, charging in blind with idealistic notions of heroism, without any thought to the future or the consequences.

Two rookies didn't have any business getting caught in the crossfire of our case.

Pulling up alongside the battered cruiser, I rolled down my window and called over to Shinda, "What's going on?"

"They're watching us," he hissed. His eyes were wide, and lank hair fell in his face. "I haven't been able to pinpoint their locations exactly, but I think some are down that alley, and another might be up on the balcony of that apartment building."

I scanned the street, but I didn't see anyone either. It didn't make sense to leave two detectives sitting, unprotected, in a wrecked cruiser.

"We were just responding to a noise complaint, but before we could even reach the location, someone started shooting at us. I managed to get Arai back to the car after he was hit, but Keki…" he shook his head in despair. "I lost track of him."

For a moment, I listened quietly, but it was hard to hear anything over the sound of the alarms. Possibly, the shooters were already gone, but that didn't make sense given their recent MO.

"Is Arai alive?"

"Yes. We're wearing vests, but they got him in the leg, and he hit the ground hard."

I nodded. "What exactly happened to Keki?"

Shinda pointed up the street to the corner, where a row of houses clustered closely together. "When the bullets started flying, he panicked and ran that way."

"So maybe he's just lying low," Kei suggested, snapping her gum.

Intently, I gazed at the dark corner. It looked like a good spot to lie low, either to hide or to wait for an opportunity to shoot. Even if we could get Arai and Shinda into our cruiser, we couldn't leave Keki behind.

"All right," I decided. "Shinda, you move over here with us. Stay low between the cruisers."

"What about Arai?" he asked quietly. "We're not going to leave him, right?"

"No, but he'll have to stay where he is until the ambulance arrives."

"And what about Keki?" Kei asked.

I glanced in my rearview. The way things were going lately, back up might not come at all.

"I'm going to look for Keki."

Her eyes popped. Normally she was so gung-ho, it surprised me when she blurted out, "Ide, no," and laid one hand on my arm.

"We can't wait another fifteen or twenty minutes."

"These are cop killers," she argued fiercely.

"Exactly why we need to find him."

Shinda nodded. "I'll cover you, Ide."

"I need you both to cover me," I corrected.

"This is a bad idea," Kei insisted. "We need to wait."

"It doesn't matter—when back up arrives, I'm going to look for Keki anyway, and fifteen minutes could mean the difference between his living and dying."

"Ide, please. You—"

I gave her a sharp look. "Don't let your personal feelings interfere, Komagata. I gave you an order."

Face turning pink, she shook her head, mumbling, "What personal feelings, you big pain in the ass?"

Unable to quite hold back a wry smile, I stepped carefully out of the cruiser, staying low as I wracked my pistol back.

Shinda climbed over Arai and got out between our two cars, and then Kei stepped out also, both holding their guns at the ready.

With a long look toward the alley, and another up toward the balcony Shinda had pointed out, I stepped out from behind the car and ran for the wall of the building, pressing close against it.

Kei and Shinda both shifted around, guns stretched across the roof and hood of the damaged cruiser.

Here, I was almost directly beneath the apartment balcony, though not quite out of their range. Anyone who tried to shoot me from the alley would have a difficult time too, but it wouldn't be impossible.

I pulled a small flashlight off my belt and aligned it with the barrel of my pistol. Taking a deep breath, I stuck my head around the corner of the apartment and shone my light down the alley.

It was narrow and drippy, but also empty. Far away, on the other side, an orange streetlight flickered. The shooter, if he'd ever been in the alley to begin with, could have run down there to round the block and try to catch Keki on the other side of the building.

Carefully, I began to move the other direction, toward the corner where the missing detective had disappeared to.

Kei and Shinda both shifted their full attention to the balcony above me.

I shone my light up there. It was empty, but the door leading inside had been broken. I focused on the corner.

Across the street, the residences were sleepy—possibly empty—and dark. There were a million good places for a shooter to hide: behind bushes and trees, on the other sides of walls, and under vehicles. I knew as soon as I rounded that corner I'd be exposed to all those possibilities.

At the edge of the wall, I paused to look back at the other two. Shinda kept his position, probably reluctant to abandon his partner, but Kei was sidling along the wall, not far behind me. Seeing her in danger bothered me, but there was no other way for her to provide me with cover.

With a deep breath, stuck the barrel of my gun around the corner. Halfway down the shadowy street, a figure stood just outside the beam of my flashlight.

"Who's there?" I called.

An uncertain voice answered, "It's Keki. Is that you, Ide?"

"Yes." I hissed to Kei, "It's Keki. He's alive."

She nodded.

Slowly, I eased around the corner, lowering my gun to my side so I wouldn't flag Keki with it, but still checking my surroundings with the flash light. There was something very strange about all this.

It could be the work of regular citizens again, but if the black arms market wasn't exactly open for business, I didn't see how civilians could get their hands on illegal guns.

As I continued to make my way toward Keki, where he stood, perfectly vulnerable, in the middle of the sidewalk, I asked, "Are you hurt?" Closer, I could see him now. He was young, with his hair combed to one side, and he didn't look like he was scared. Though his uniform was disheveled, I didn't see any sign of injury on him.

"No. I'm all right. What about Arai and Shinda?"

"Arai is hurt, but they're both alive. What happened to the perps?"

"I didn't see where they went."

"They didn't chase you?"

"No, I guess not."

Five NPA officers were supposed to die today. Was it possible they were having trouble reaching that quota? If so, why would they leave Keki standing in the street like a sitting duck?

"Come on." I jerked my head in the direction I'd come from. "Let's get back to the cruisers and wait for back up."

Keki shook his head, looking almost sad as he sighed, "I'm sorry, Ide."

"For what?"

He point his gun at my chest.

"Hideki!" Kei shouted.

Keki jerked, aiming at her for a split second, eyes wild, and then immediately at me again.

"Nobody move!" I yelled, holding my hand up to keep Kei back. "Everybody just calm down."

Keki shuddered so badly, I thought he might drop the gun.

My breath hitched. "Keki. What…the hell are you doing?"

"What are _you_ doing?" he snarled, lips frothing. "What is _Aizawa_ doing? One of _you_ killed Kira, and my partner and I get shot at for it!"

"We—"

"If all four of you die, this will stop!"

My heart sank. We should have seen this coming.

"Listen to me." I shifted my grip on my gun, but I didn't think I could aim fast enough. Unless I ordered Kei to shoot him, I'd die, and I'd rather not kill a fellow officer. "That isn't what this maniac wants, Keki. It won't make him stop."

"It has to!" he sobbed.

"Believe me. We're doing everything in our power to catch him. That's the only way."

"N-no, you're not." I could see him shaking, violently, as he answered, "My partner's dead!"

His partner, I thought, had been named Sato, and he'd a couple days ago.

"I understand," I told him, in a placating tone. "If something happened to my partner, I'd be…" My stomach dropped just to imagine trying to carry on without Aizawa. I'd never sleep again, not until I punished the one who'd taken him from me. "Devastated. I don't know how I could go on."

Keki whimpered. "Tell me which one of you he's after—you owe me that!"

"Okay," I agreed. "That's fair." I glanced at his gun, wondering if he had the guts.

"I-I don't know what you b-bastards are thinking," he stuttered, eyes getting wider by the second. "P-people are dying…and all you assholes think of is yourselves!"

"Come on, man, that's not true. Give me the gun, let's go back to the car, and I'll tell you who shot Kira."

He stared at me, and his eyes flickered.

"Trust me, Keki." Slowly, I lifted my hand.

At last, his shoulders slumped, and he nodded, lowering his gun and taking an unsteady step forward.

A shot rang out. Keki shouted and lurched back, reeling from the blast and struggling to right himself.

Another bullet zipped past my ear and hit the wall beside me, followed immediately by one more. They were coming from across the street.

"Run, Kei!" I screamed, dipping down to drag Keki onto my shoulders.

Kei staggered up beside me, boots slipping on the loose gravel, and looped Keki's arm over her shoulder.

Bullets flew everywhere, echoing through the night and exploding against the wall beside me.

Together, we limped around the corner, off balance, barely able to run under Keki's weight. I saw Shinda still ducked behind his cruiser, firing over and over the other direction. Down the darkened street, automatic fire rattled over the screaming car alarms.

"Ide!" Shinda screamed, as we bolted toward him. "They're—"

A bullet tore through his face.

Kei shrieked.

My heart jolted.

More shots ripped his body to pieces, hitting his arms, shoulders, and neck. He fell against his cruiser and slid to the ground, leaving a smear of red across his trunk.

Around the corner, I heard the pound of boots on pavement and the shouting of voices. Men emerged out of the shadows, stepping into the blue and red flashing lights. I fired in that direction.

All but dropping Keki, Kei and I sprang to take cover between the cruisers, and she knelt beside Shinda. "I-Ide… He's dead!"

Inside Shinda's wrecked cruiser, Arai was stirring and moaning, eyelids fluttering as he came to.

"Shit." I leaned over the hood of the car, shooting at the men flooding around the corner. They were all dressed in black, wearing masks to hide their faces. "Shit!"

I wished Aizawa were with me. Even if I tried to call him for help right now he wouldn't arrive on time.

I'd managed to gun down a few punks, but not nearly enough.

"Shit, shit, shit." I dropped to the ground, letting the empty magazine fall and slamming a new one home. "Get in the car," I growled.

Kei gaped at me.

"That's an order!"

She scrambled up, firing a couple rounds as she threw the driver's side open and jumped in.

I jumped to my feet as well, taking out a few that had gotten too close. I shoved Shinda's car door open, grabbing Arai by the collar and dragging him out.

Barely conscious, he writhed in my hands. "What's…what's all the noise…?"

"Shut up." I stuffed him in with Kei.

Next, I reached down to get Keki.

Sharp pain tore through my shoulder. My arm went limp. Yelping, I stumbled back, nearly dropping my gun to clutch at the wound. Blood already poured through the ragged hole in my suit. "Oh, fuck."

Around me, the punks cheered and called for my death.

Roaring, my cruiser sprang forward, smoke pouring off the tires.

I stared in disbelief. Would she leave me out of fear?

 _Damn Americans._

Tires squealing and pouring smoke, the car whipped around. She raced back to me, jerking to a stop. Bullets ricocheted off the chrome.

Kei leaned over and pushed the passenger door open. "Get in!"

Pain burned through my arm, but I dragged Keki toward the car. He'd started writhing and moaning.

"Wake up you traitor," I grunted. "Get up and move!"

Another bullet zinged past my ear just as I lugged him into the car. The glass of my window shattered the moment my door was closed.

"Drive, dammit, drive!"

Immediately, she crammed the accelerator to the floor.

I leaned out the window with my good arm and fired another five rounds, one after another. Two more punks fell.

As we were rounding the corner, I heard a loud pow, and the car suddenly swerved left. Cursing savagely, Kei fought with the wheel, and we drifted back and forth on the street, rushing straight for a telephone pole.

With a sickening crunch and a rain of sparks, we hit. My head flew forward and smashed against the windshield. For a moment, my ears rang and my vision went blurry, and then everything turned dark.

A second later, I heard Kei screaming my name again and again. "Hideki! Hideki, wake up! Hideki, goddammit, you have to wake up! They're coming."

Excruciating pain jolted down my spine as I lifted my head to look at her.

She looked terrified in the seat next to me, eyes wide, body shaking all over. Blood matted her yellow hair, and tears streaked her face. "Hideki, they're coming!"

My vision was still tilting, and I was seeing double of everything-the front end of the car wrapped around the telephone pole, the blood staining the sleeve of my suit, even the men approaching in the cracked side mirror, swinging their guns around and firing triumphantly into the sky.

"Dammit…" I rubbed my aching head. "Wh-where's that back up?"

"What now?" Kei rasped.

Grunting, I fumbled for my gun. It must have fallen on the floor and slid under the seat. "Shit… Shit… Shuichi, where the fuck'd my gun go…?"

"Aizawa's not here," she told me staunchly.

"Yeah… Just my luck… Stuck with you when I die…" I found my cigarettes and lit one. "I wanted it to be him."

He'd live, though. He wasn't like me. He'd be okay without me around to watch his back.

Her lips quivered as she stared at me, blue eyes like gems cut straight from the perfect ocean of the sky… No… That didn't make any sense. They were like pieces of the sky though, somehow.

"Hideki…" she whispered, and I realized she was holding my hand. "I-I'm not going back to the US… I…I want to stay here…"

In a moment, she wouldn't have that option. I didn't know how to give it back to her.

 _Everything I want…everything I've ever wanted… It's all over now._

"I want'cha to stay here too…" I said thickly, vision starting to go black again. "I want to be able to see you…"

Thinly, she smiled and wiped her bloody nose. "People will say I'm a gold-digger."

Sharp pain sped through my chest on my next drag, but I stared into the mirror, watching them close in. My fingers scraped the floorboards, not finding my gun. I was about to pass out again. "Nah. People'd never say that. They'll say I'm a dirty, old man."

Kei gave a short laugh, and then suddenly pressed against me, burying her face in my shoulder, and I felt her shaking. "I-I don't wanna die…"

"Me neither." God this cigarette tasted good. It was the best damn cigarette I'd ever had.

At last, I felt the cold steel of my gun wedged down between the crunched door and my seat.

Behind me, one of the men laughed, "It's a whole car fulla' cops! Must be our lucky day!"

"I'll kill at least _one_ of 'em before they get us," I growled.

The gun was stuck though. No matter how I pulled at it, it wouldn't budge. The man outside my window was just a step or two away. This really was it.

 _Damn, Shuichi…I always thought I'd die next to you._

 _So many things I never said._

 _Good bye, I guess._

Wrapping my arm around Kei, I took a deep, deep breath of her hair, treasuring that last second of life with everything I had in me.

The shrill screech of sirens cut through the peace of the last night. I watched in disbelief as another cruiser tore around the corner, fish-tailing in the turn. It raced up next to us. The man outside my window gave a shout of terror a split second before he was launched up over the hood of the cruiser. A voice boomed over the speaker, stoic, but full of authority. "Drop your weapons."

"Hn…" I muttered around a mouthful of smoke. "Sounds like Kanzo."

The gunman on Kei's side of the car stood there looking stupid, like he didn't know if he should try to finish the job or run the hell away. He glanced from our car to the other, trying to figure it out. Our eyes met. His were like steel.

Gun raised and ready, he rushed us, determined to jam the barrel in here and kill all four of us like fish in a barrel.

Screaming, I wrenched my pistol loose. Blood gushed from my injured arm, and pain tore through that whole half of my body. I shoved it away and pushed Kei's head down to take a clear shot.

I didn't even have time to aim. I squeezed the trigger.

The kid stopped in mid run, and blood spattered Kei's side of the windshield.

A split second after mine, another shot echoed through the night, blowing the gunman's head open.

He dropped out of sight.

I stared after him, breathing heavily, heart slamming out of control. Kei's fingernails cut into my free hand. Slowly, I lowered my pistol.

Mogi appeared next to my window, frowning in at me, his gun still smoking. "You got him first, Ide."

I slammed back against my seat and shut my eyes. Kei cried against my neck. I felt Kanzo touch me on the wounded arm. My trembling hand wandered up to my mouth so I could take another agonizing drag off the cigarette. "Do me a favor?"

"Yeah?" He squeezed my shoulder.

"Call Shuichi."

He gave me a light shake. "Of course, Hideki."

"Tell him I need him."


	20. Chapter 20

**Matsuda**

* * *

My last visit to Yama's bar already felt like a long time ago, and I had been almost a different person that night, but I felt better after talking with Sayu. She understood me, and she was right. There had to be a balance between acting stupid and getting treated like I was helpless. If I found it, maybe I could actually turn out to be a decent detective, and after getting a little sleep, I felt somewhat better, much less sick, ready to give this another try.

Behind us, the sun had slowly started to rise, turning the horizon light blue and gold, but no one was around.

"Ten minutes," Aizawa growled. "Exactly ten. If you don't come out of there by then, I'm going in there and arresting someone."

"You got it," I agreed, and despite how annoyed he seemed, it was good to have him with me again, to know that if something went wrong, he'd fix it.

Yoko surveyed our location with a pair of binoculars. "So far it doesn't look like anyone is here at all."

Just the same, Aizawa handed me Ide's gun with a new magazine of ammo, grabbing my wrist when I reached to take it.

Startled, I met his gaze, seeing how utterly serious his expression was.

"We need this information, Matsuda, but if it seems like the two of you are in danger, get out."

"Yeah, of course."

He stepped in closer, hissing, "Remember Sayu is with you."

"I will." Silently, I promised myself I'd do whatever it took to protect Sayu.

Nodding once, he let me go. I glanced at Sayu. She nodded also, and we started to cross the street together. Behind me, I heard Aizawa cursing to himself, and I knew he was mad about the way we'd refused to listen to him. I'd hear about it later.

For now, I had to focus.

Yama's looked darker and deader than I'd ever seen it, and it seemed totally possible that Reaper had figured out that Momo planned to talk to me and killed him.

Or this could be a trap.

Hand trembling, I reached for the door knob, honestly afraid of what I might find, but the door sprang open a little too easily, and we stood there a moment, letting our eyes adjust to the darkened room while the brass bell rang back and forth above us.

Everyone was gone, but the dim lights still glowed, and a light cloud of cigarette smoke lingered. Nothing moved. I couldn't help looking over my shoulder at the cruiser, but Aizawa and Yoko had gotten out of sight.

Cautiously, I stepped forward, still gripping Sayu's hand and leading the way inside. "Momo-san?"

Nothing moved, and a silent dread worked its way up inside me.

"I better search the place," I said, when a few moments of stillness had passed.

"Yeah," she husked. "Maybe he—"

A heavy rap of footsteps rushed down the stairs, and I automatically jumped in front of Sayu, pressing her back against the door. She clung to my jacket.

Momo emerged. Like everyone else, he looked thinner and paler than I remembered—this case seemed to be sucking the life out of everybody—his eyes were hollow, and sweat stood out on his forehead, but he smiled nervously at us. "Matsuda-kun! Ya came! I knew Sayu would do right by me!"

"Hey, Momo." I made a face I thought would probably look close to a smile, and then I glanced around to be sure he was alone, listening intently.

"Sorry for startlin' ya; I was upstairs tryin' ta keep quiet. Wanna drink?" Without waiting for our answers, he poured out two whiskeys.

I sidled up to the bar. "Do you think the Reaper knows what you're up to?"

He gave me a worried glance. "No, no, I don't think so. He came around last night, but it was all business as usual."

Drawing a sharp breath, Sayu suddenly grabbed her glass and took a sip.

"Anyway, don't hurt to be careful, right?" Momo flashed another faint grin, beginning to clean glasses out of habit. "Gonna drink that?" He jerked his chin at my whiskey.

"No thanks. I just wanna hear what you have to say, and then we're leaving."

He nodded sagely, but muttered, "Well, you might change your mind when you hear what I have to say. Some way or other, Reaper figured out who ya are, and you can bet he's gonna be lookin' all over town for ya now."

Sayu shot me a worried look. "What does that mean? He knows who you are?"

"Don't worry about it," I muttered.

"I bet he's even got your house bein' watched by this point," Momo went on. "Shouldn't go home, if you're smart."

"How would he figure all that out?" Sayu wanted to know, scanning the bar.

"See, that's part of what I wanted to talk about. I don't want'cha to take it personally…" He hesitated. "But…after ya came in here the other night, askin' questions, I gave Miyami a call an' told him all about it. I told him you're a cop an' ev'rything."

That explained why Miyami had come after me, but it still didn't explain how he'd gotten my phone number.

Spine going rigid, Sayu slammed her glass down. "Momo! That's so low!"

"Sayu." I gave her a meaningful look and then returned my attention to Momo. "How am I supposed to trust you now?"

"For one thing, kiddo, I didn't call Miyami 'cause I like him; truth is, I work for him. And for Reaper, if ya get right down to it. After Nishi was killed, they put me in charge of the bar. Prob'ly 'cause I don't got much and no one would miss me if they had to kill me. Miyami had me spy on ya."

"Seriously?" I glared at him. "You've been spying on me? That doesn't make it any easier to trust you."

Momo shrugged. "Call it self-preservation. It ain't like I been followin' ya or nothing. The night you met Miyami here he gave me instructions to keep an eye on you for as long as you were in the bar. He told me to give ya whatever you wanted, even information, and to report what you did. Guess he suspected ya were a cop all along."

Immediately, I felt dumb. No wonder Momo had always been so willing to answer my questions. Aizawa had found it suspicious right away, but I'd been just dumb enough to hope for the best and gamble on it. "Why the sudden change of heart?" I demanded.

Sighing, Momo set a glass aside, leaned against the bar, and rubbed his head. "Miyami's dead. I don't know how or who did it."

I tried to shut out the memory of Miyami killing himself, but it was already in my face, making me feel helpless and sick all over again. I rubbed the arm he'd cut into.

"Miyami's dead?" Sayu gasped. "Since when?"

"Yesterday. I got a coupla' theories about it. The first one is Reaper offed him for some reason, just like he knocked Nishi off. The other is that one of _you_ satsu got to him and had ta kill him. Either way, it don't look good for me." His eyes glazed and a bead of sweat trickled down his jaw. He swallowed hard. "If Reaper's killin' his own men, what's to stop him from killin' me? If the cops are killin' suspects outta desperation, I figure it's just a matter of time before ya finger me for an accomplice too. Like you said—I gotta get outta this."

"Good idea," I agreed darkly.

"I wanna tell ya what I know first. Keep in mind, I ain't involved as much as Miyami was, but I think I can help ya, and then I expect ya to let me go—no questions asked."

I frowned, wondering if I could convince Aizawa to do that, but I nodded. "Sure, I guess so."

Momo nodded back, but his eyes flickered with distrust, and he probably knew that wasn't a promise I could necessarily keep. Still, he began, "So, about a month ago, just a coupla days after the cops announced that Kira had been killed, I'm here, mindin' my busin' duties; Nishi was tendin' the bar, and Miyami was in the booth he liked, doin' some paper work."

I couldn't help looking over at the booth where Sayu and I had sat with him, remembering how he'd said it was his regular table.

"Then, outta nowhere, in walks this high-roller. A real big-shot—nice, fancy suit, few bodyguards with him, real high-born look on his face. Definitely not the type to wander into a dive like this for a drink. He interrupted Miyami right in the middle of his work, an' they went upstairs. They stayed there til closin' time. Then they came down, shook hands, he took his bodyguards, and left, just like that. Miyami went home right after that, an' me and Nishi locked up shop. Pretty regular night."

"Did Nishi know who the man was?" Sayu asked.

"A bit. Nishi an' Miyami go back a ways, and he knew the guy who came in used to be Miyami's roommate from university. He said the guy was the new CEO of Yotsuba."

"Yotsuba?" I almost dropped my eyeballs.

"Maybe ya remember, a few years back, a lotta Yotsuba employees got killed by Kira. Least, that's what Nishi told me. I don't watch much news. Guess Nishi was a pretty big Kira supporter, so he knew all about it. He said we're not talkin' 'bout the janitor and the secretary—these guys were important."

"I remember," I told him faintly, and I felt sick over the realization that Light had killed those six men even after they helped us arrest Higuchi.

"Turns out Miyami's old friend had been workin' hard at Yotsuba, but not getting too far. Then, when a bunch of these big shots died, he got his break. In a few years, he'd climbed all the way to the top. Yotsuba's current CEO dies, and boom—this guy takes over the whole business."

"But what would someone like that be doing here?" Sayu asked. "Just visiting his old roommate?"

"That's what I figured. But then Miyami comes to us a few days later, talkin' about big, big plans, upping our business, makin' more money, an' all he would tell us was it had somethin' ta do with Kira. At first, he didn't tell me much, but after Nishi died he mentioned how he and an old friend were tryin' ta revive Kira. If you can see how that'd get us more money, lemme know, 'cause that I've never made sense of."

"Oohhh!" The epiphany hit me suddenly. "Then you're sayin' this Yotsuba guy is the Reaper!"

Sayu raised an eyebrow at me, like she'd thought that was obvious, and even Momo looked confused.

"Well," he admitted, "don't know for sure. I don't think Miyami knew that _I_ knew the guy was his old roommate, otherwise he might notta told me so much." He added, matter-of-factly, "If ya put two an' two together, seems sorta obvious that the CEO of Yotsuba is behind this mess."

I wondered if I was really so bad at adding that even Momo thought I was an idiot, and I tried to sound a little smarter as I said, "So, Miyami told you his old friend wants to revive Kira just a little while after his roommate from college showed up, and at the same time, this Reaper maniac is running around, trying to accomplish the exact same thing. It all makes sense!" I couldn't stop the grin that cracked suddenly across my face. "Wow! That's a great tip, Momo—thanks!"

Momo rolled his eyes and gave Sayu a somewhat disbelieving look. "Would'ja keep yer shirt on, kid? Here's the problem—I know _who_ Reaper is, but I ain't got no idea _where_ he is. Never had any contact with him, and now Miyami's dead I got no idea how ta get in touch with him. Didn't exactly leave a phone number."

"You said he came in here last night," Sayu pointed out.

"That was weird though. He always had Miyami come relay information, if he wanted. I don't even know his name, and I'll lay ya even money he ain't at his office."

That was a touch discouraging, but not enough to blow my mood. "Don't worry about that, Momo. It'll be easy to figure out who he is now that we have a place to start. But…is it really okay for you to tell me all this?"

"'Course it ain't _okay_ ," Momo snorted. "If the bastard figures out I ratted on him, he'll kill me."

"I'm not going to tell him. Don't worry." I flashed a feeble smile, but Momo just gave me another incredulous look.

"What was he doin' in here last night?" Sayu wondered, and I realized, she was the one asking all the good questions.

"He came ta tell me Miyami's dead. I dunno why. Fear mongerin' maybe. That was a one-time thing anyway—he'll never show his face in here again, especially not now. Honestly, that's the first time I ever really talked with the guy, lucky for me. I ain't no Kira fanatic like Miyami and Nishi were, so they didn't involve me in the project too much."

"If that's true," Sayu said quietly, "Nishi dying might have saved your life."

"How?" I wondered.

"Well, if Nishi was working hand-in-hand with Miyami, that's obviously what got him killed."

"When Nishi died," Momo went on, "I guess the bar had served its purpose. Miyami promoted me ta bartender, but he didn't seem interested in involvin' me in Reaper's plot until after you two came along. I don't think he ever meant to."

"I still don't get it," I admitted.

"I never got introduced to the boss man—I don't even think he realizes Miyami got me involved."

"After Nishi was killed, obviously the Reaper wouldn't want to be seen in this bar," Sayu said. "His death probably kept the Reaper away from Momo, and chances are he still thinks Momo doesn't know anything about what's going on. But." She gave Momo a warning look. "That doesn't mean he won't kill you just to cover his bases."

"That's true," I agreed. "He might see you as a loose end."

Momo swallowed hard. "Well, if that's what he wants, he ain't shown no sign of it yet. Last night, it seemed like he'd come by to tell me the place's shutting by and I'm out of a job. I dunno why he thought it was safe to come in person—if he'd been in here the night before, he woulda run into _you_ , Matsuda, an' he'd know exactly who you are."

"And vice versa," Sayu added under her breath.

"That's that though," Momo said suddenly. "Bar's closin' up, and I'm splittin' town."

Surprised, I asked, "You don't want police protection?"

"Promise not ta arrest me and keep ev'rything I said off the record, and _that's_ police protection."

"Yeah, but your testimony could be important," Sayu told him.

"That's right," I agreed immediately. "If we take you back to the station—"

Momo shook his head and set his jaw. "I ain't goin' into no concrete bird cage."

"But your testimony…"

"Testimony's like when ya stand up in court an' say what you saw, right?"

"More or less."

"Well it really don't matter then." He shotgunned his whiskey, slouched against the bar, and looked seriously at me. "This thing ain't never goin' ta court, Matsuda. The way Miyami talked about you the other night, there's only two ways this can end: either the Reaper dies, or _you_ do."

My heart started to hammer as I remembered my confrontation with Miyami—he'd had more or less the same mentality.

While I stood there, feeling scared and sick, Momo went on.

"There's just one last thing you better know. 'Member that group of kids that kicked the livin' shit outta ya the night ya met Miyami?"

My face burned at the memory, and I said flatly, "Yeah."

"The one goin' by Troy also calls himself Osiris. Important part about him, he's in charge of that gang—the Gods of Death, or _Shinigami_ if ya don't like English—and he's the Reaper's younger brother. He's his eyes and ears, and the Shinigami are the Reaper's protection."

I stared across the room at Miyami's booth again, half reliving my fight with Troy—Osiris—and half wondering why they'd chosen that name. By this time, I'd think if an actual shinigami was involved, we'd have noticed some sign of it.

Sayu asked, "But…why did he run from Miyami then?"

"Justa' act ta gain your trust. Miyami sent Troy an' his gang after ya when I told him you were in here askin' questions about him."

Rage set in with my confusion and fear. "What the hell, Momo?"

"I didn't know they were gonna attack ya. Miyami told me I should send anybody askin' for him back outside."

"But why?

Sayu murmured, "It was all a trap. Miyami wasn't dumb, right? He shot Yamaguchi, didn't he? If he did, he'd know the cops would look for the shotgun."

The shell I'd found upstairs might have been _planted_ , I realized, as I thought back on that dusty room. It didn't even matter that I'd found it because Anubis got in my car and took it from me.

 _Has this whole thing been a trap?_

"Obviously he didn't really want to hide the fact that he had it," Sayu went on. "Otherwise he wouldn't have told a loud mouth like Koli about it. He was looking for an opportunity to get close to the investigation team. He was trying to lure you back here…" Her eyes shadowed with some of her own confusion. "I just don't understand why."

That had been his play to find me. It happened to be me who came along looking for the shotgun, but the reason he'd told Momo to give me any information I wanted was because he was waiting for one of us to slip up and reveal who it was that had shot Kira. Idiot me had played right into their hands.

It was too much to handle. I slumped onto a bar stool, finally gulping down my own shot of whiskey, and rested my face against my fist.

Momo waited a moment, and then cleared his throat. "Just one last thing, 'kay?"

"Okay," I agreed tiredly.

"There's this psycho runnin' around callin' himself Anubis. He's a Shinigami Miyami always sends on special missions."

Like stealing evidence and blowing up cars.

Momo leaned forward unexpectedly, speaking earnestly. "You gotta watch out for him, Matsuda. I've heard lotsa nasty stuff 'bout him, like that he's a murderer convict who escaped from prison in Siberia. I dunno if that's true, but he's dangerous."

"Tell me about it." I touched my shoulder, where the slash Anubis left me burned and stung. He'd come so close to slicing my face off…

Tenderly, Sayu rubbed my arm and pointed out, "It's strange for a murder convict to support Kira."

Snorting, Momo shrugged. "Kira ain't really comin' back, right? Chances are this guy was just lookin' for an excuse to kill people."

"You're right," she murmured. "As long as Kira's gone, marching under his banner is the best way for criminals to get away with whatever they want."

"All them Shinigami kids are that way, so watch out for 'em. They don't stick out special, but they've got a red English symbol on their clothes."

"A k?"

I clenched my wounded arm again.

"Dunno. I don't read English."

My head felt heavy as I nodded. "Thanks, Momo."

"No problem," he said glibly. "Wish I had more."

"It helps a lot." It was all good information. Yet, at the same time, it was all terrible news.

"Well." He tucked our empty glasses down behind the counter. "I'd say see you around, but I doubt I will. As soon as you're gone, I'm outta here."

As we left the bar, I considered the theme of shinigami throughout the case. If the Reaper and his men somehow know about the notebook, this might be their play to get their hands on it.

 _They say they want me dead, but is it possible they think they can kidnap me and negotiate for it?_

Little did they know, Near wouldn't even think about handing over the death note for an idiot like me.

"There's something I don't understand," Sayu announced as we plodded across the street. "Whatever this is all about, it seems like these people are after you specifically, and I don't see why."

Knowing it was too dangerous to tell her anything about that, I shook my head.

But she paused on the curb to look knowingly into my eyes. "It's because you killed Kira, isn't it?"

I stared at her a moment, and then I had to turn away, unable to meet her gaze as I admitted to shooting her brother. "Yeah… You're right."

Sayu caught my hand in hers. "No wonder Aizawa-san doesn't want you out here on your own."

"Yeah…" I looked across the street, where Aizawa and Yoko stood waiting for us. Our conversation with Momo must have taken less than ten minutes, even though it felt like it had lasted for hours.

Beyond them, the bright sun bloomed out from under the darkness of the night, blazing against the skyline. The dawn didn't give me any hope, though; it just meant more police were going to die.

"Well," Sayu sighed, starting to lead me across the road. "At least now I know for sure that Kira's dead. But…how exactly does this lunatic know you're the one he wants?"

I jerked to another stop, staring down at her. How _did_ he know? In the bar, I'd thought to myself that Miyami must have come after me when Momo told him I'd been here the other night, but now I realized that didn't make sense.

Was it because Rei found my wallet in his garden? No. Even then, the Taro Matsui thing seemed like it couldn't be anything more than a hunch. In order for the Reaper to know—to really, honest to God _know_ —that I was the one who'd shot Kira, someone had to have told him. Someone who had been there.

Sayu's face wrinkled with worry. "Do you think one of your friends betrayed you?"

I shook my head, having a hard time swallowing. Which one? After the big deal they'd made about me disappearing for a few days, I had a hard time imagining that any of them would do that. Mogi showed up at my apartment, acting so gentle and worried. Aizawa had practically kidnapped me to keep me off the streets. I remembered how tired Ide looked at the hospital last night, all because he'd been searching for me non-stop.

 _Which one of them is lying?_

"Hey." Sayu leaned up to me, cupping my face between her hands and searching my eyes. "We're closer than ever to figuring this out."

"I know." We even had a suspect, at long last. It should make me feel better, but the only comfort I had right now came from feeling her skin against mine.

"Whatever's going on, we'll figure it out."

If I couldn't trust my friends, I should get away from them, and I didn't know if I could solve this alone.

"No more dumb ideas. Remember?"

"Right."

Her soft lips brushed mine, and she spoke against my mouth, "It's going to be all right, Touta."

It was easier to believe when she said it, and as long as she was on my side I had a chance to make it through. I wanted to keep fighting.

"Hey!" Aizawa's voice shattered the solitude. "Get the hell out of the road!"

For the first time, I noticed a car coming up behind me, and Sayu and I had to hurry to get out of the way.

Aizawa glared at us from where he leaned against the door of the cruiser, and Yoko was sitting on the hood, watching us from the corner of her eye.

"What did you find out, Corporal? Anything good?"

Intensely, I stared him in the eyes, wondering if he had that in him, what he could possibly gain from getting me killed, if he was really such a good actor that he might have me fooled.

More importantly, where did the betrayal begin? Did they decide to throw me under the bus after I shot Light? Or was it possible they'd been toying with me for years?

To think of any of them lying about their concerns hurt. They must know I genuinely cared about all four of them.

Last night, I'd been so mad at Aizawa for suggesting I had PTSD and treating me like a liability, but, then, when I'd come to in his arms, I'd had a moment of clarity, and I'd even felt childish. Ide had been telling me for years that Ai was just really bad at telling people how much they mattered, but everything he'd said at the hospital, and the way he'd come after me and saved my life showed me I meant something to him.

"Matsu?" Aizawa's brow furrowed. "Hello?"

"Ai…" I husked, rubbing the back of my neck, and then I stared at the sidewalk. "You wouldn't…" I trailed away, not wanting to talk about this in front of Sayu and Yoko.

With a frown, he touched my shoulder. "What is it?"

"You wouldn't believe it. Momo said he thinks the Reaper is the current CEO of Yotsuba. Crazy, right?"

I said it with so much of my old enthusiasm, he probably had no idea how bothered I felt right then.

Accordingly, his eyebrows shot up over his aviators. "Yotsuba?"

"Crazy, right?" I murmured, again.

Maybe no one betrayed me on purpose.. Aizawa got interrogated for a long time—they threatened him with truth serum, even though, supposedly, they never used it—maybe he'd accidentally told the NPA something. But if someone else on the force had betrayed me, that wasn't any better.

"We should take him into custody," Aizawa decided, after waiting a moment for me to say more. "Question him."

"I told him we wouldn't," I said.

Semi bewildered, semi disapproving, he demanded, "Why?"

"I just…did."

"He's part of the case, Matsuda. We need information."

"Momo-san said he told us everything he knows," Sayu chimed in. "The CEO of Yotsuba is the guy we're after, he just doesn't know how to get in touch with him, or even his real name."

"Akki Toyoshi," Yoko announced, stepping down from the hood to join us.

"Toyoshi…" I echoed. That was the name Miyami had blurted out. If only I could have remembered it.

It wouldn't have really mattered, not if somebody sold me out.

She flashed her phone at us, revealing her Google search. "He's only been the CEO a few years."

Next to me, Sayu jerked and her mouth fell open as she stammered, "I-I knew it!" Lunging forward to yank the phone from Yoko's hand, she studied the picture on the screen. "This is the guy I saw last night."

"You _saw_ the Reaper?" I demanded, horrified, before I remembered this wasn't the Kira case, and having your face seen wasn't dangerous. Unless you were me.

 _Who would have told them I shot Kira? Who has the most to gain?_

Mogi and Ide didn't seem like they'd get anything out of leaking that information. Mogi had almost no interest in material possessions, unless they were practical, like his phone or his work suit, so he wasn't the kind of guy you could bribe with money.

Ide had always just skated. He was a talented detective, but according to the others, he rarely put his skills to use, relying on others—mostly Aizawa—to do the heavy lifting and tow him along to the top. Maybe he wouldn't be above taking a bribe.

But, then, when I thought about hanging out with him for the last four or five years, I just couldn't believe he'd betray me. He'd taken me to lunch after Sumi cheated on me, trying to understand what was wrong and do what he could to make it better; he'd worked on my car when it broke down and didn't charge me a thing; I used to pass out against his shoulder at headquarters and then wake up with his arm around me. He was one of my best friends.

Neither of them had a family or so much as a girlfriend someone might be able to use against them.

Again, I stared hard at Aizawa, wishing I could talk to him about it, but he seemed absorbed in the conversation.

Yoko said, "That explains all the influence and money this would take, but what do you think his motive could be?"

"To revive Kira, just like he said," Aizawa grumbled.

"That just seems so unreal. I mean Kira was just a man, wasn't he?"

"Yeah," I muttered. "He can't be revived." Obviously, _that_ wouldn't be my friends' motives.

"Not everyone thinks that way," Aizawa said, distractedly. I noticed he was texting Mogi with a troubled look on his face. "Fanatics like the Reaper don't."

"Like that Mikami character you told me about," Yoko agreed. "He thought Kira was God, didn't he?"

"More or less."

"Frankly, no offense, you guys probably should have noticed he was Kira. I mean, was he that immature when he was around you?"

I gaped at her in disbelief.

Aizawa stopped in the middle of texting, blinked, stared into space a second, and then faced her. "What did you say?"

Yoko stammered, "I-I mean…when you were around Kira… It seems like maybe there could have been signs…"

"I was hardly around him," Aizawa said forcefully. "We arrested him. He got shot. That's the end of the story."

"Of course. I'm sorry."

Sayu stared her down. "What did you mean they should have noticed?" She looked up at me next. "You guys knew Kira?"

"No," I said quickly. "No, of course not."

Her eyebrow arched. She turned to Yoko, speaking in a suddenly low voice. "What did you mean they should have noticed?"

Helplessly, Yoko shook her head.

"Let's go," Aizawa ordered suddenly. "We've wasted enough time, and Mogi says—"

"You bitch!" Sayu screamed, cocking back to slap Yoko across the face. From the way the strike echoed over the street, it was about as hard as she could hit. Her eyes flashed with rage. "You're suggesting my brother was Kira?!"

Yoko stumbled back, rubbing her cheek. "I didn't say that."

"What else could you have meant? If they spent enough time with him that they should have noticed he was Kira—there were five of them there that day, and one of them didn't make it back, and that… That means…"

My heart sank.

Sayu turned on me, face pale and drawn in horror.

Yoko looked at Aizawa. "I didn't—"

"Shut up," he snarled. "Everyone shut up! Yoko, how in the hell…?"

"Matsuda told me," she whispered. "The other night…"

Sayu squeaked, the last bit of color draining from her face. "Matsuda…"

Immediately, I felt stupid. Here I was, wondering who would have betrayed me when I'd leaked that information myself.

"Sayu, listen." I took a step toward her.

I shouldn't have said that. Maybe it was something in my tone, or maybe it was the look of awful guilt in my eyes, but it crushed out all her incredulity, and she suddenly clasped her hands to her mouth. "Oh my God. Oh my God!"

"Sayu," Aizawa growled, "it's not what you think."

She gushed suddenly, putting things together faster than her mouth could even speak. "My brother, the genius, all the things he could have done, all the things he could have been, everything he was capable of; five NPA detectives go to an abandoned warehouse. For some reason Light was killed, even though nobody else had a scratch on them. Matsuda shot Kira. Matsuda's a mess over shooting Kira. Matsuda. Murdered. _Light_." Her legs buckled suddenly.

I moved forward to support her.

She jumped back. "Someone answer me! Was Light really Kira?"

Everyone was quiet. I couldn't stand to lie right to her face, but there was no way to tell her the truth either. I felt like I'd fallen into a pit of quicksand.

Lips trembling, tears flooding her eyes, she held my gaze steadily. "Touta…" she husked. "Please… It's not true. Right?"

Suddenly, all eyes were on me. Suddenly, _I_ had to decide if I should lie or tell her. Suddenly, all her happiness and hope and the good memories she'd had of her brother were in my hands.

Drawing a deep breath, I couldn't help glancing at Aizawa, willing him to step in and carry on and make a bunch of noise and scream at everybody until we dropped it.

From the resigned look on his face, he wasn't going to. There wasn't any point.

"Tell me!" Sayu screamed.

"Yeah," I said, hardly above a whisper. "Yeah, Sayu. Light was Kira."

"Oh my God!" she wailed.

"But listen—"

"Oh my God!" The tears burst from her eyes, spilling down her cheeks. "You killed him!"

I felt like I'd been kicked.

"Didn't you?"

"I…"

"Why didn't you _tell_ me?"

Everything hurt, like I'd swallowed a liter of broken glass. I barely managed to croak out, "H-how could I?"

"Because you act like you care about me!"

"We decided together…" What had we decided? I could barely even remember our conversation about what to tell everyone about Light being Kira. I just remembered sitting at the bar with the guys, taking shot after shot after shot and listening to them decide what we should do. What _I_ should do.

"You honestly thought it was better for me to go the rest of my life believing in a lie, believing my brother died fighting Kira?" Her voice cracked with outrage.

When she put it that way, the decision seemed really stupid.

"And to make it worse, you decided to lie about how he died too! Don't you think it was important for me to know _you_ killed _Light_?"

"I…"

"God, I trusted you, Touta! I-I cared about you! You've been lying this _whole_ time!"

"I didn't. We agreed not to tell you!"

The tears continued to cascade down her face, but fury was starting to build over everything else. She choked out, "You betrayed me," like she could barely stand to say it.

It was so horrible I didn't know what to do to even begin to approach it. Yoko and Aizawa seemed like they were gone, and Sayu and I were by ourselves in this awful conversation. She looked and sounded so terribly hurt, I just wanted to hold her and comfort her and be strong for her. "I-I didn't want to shoot your brother. I—"

"How dare you say something so stupid?" she raged, stomping her foot, and I thought she'd slap me next. "How dare you?"

"I know it doesn't make sense, but—"

"You fucking idiot! Nothing _ever_ makes sense to _you_! It isn't that hard!"

She might as well have slapped me. I stared at the ground. "Sayu… He was Kira."

"I can't believe that! I can't believe my brother was Kira! I can't believe you killed him!"

"He didn't!" Aizawa boomed suddenly. I should have known he would come to my rescue eventually.

"Then what happened to Kira?" she screamed. "Obviously _Light_ didn't kill him!"

I desperately wanted to tell her about Ryuuk and the notebook and the way people had heart attacks when their name got written down, L, Near, all the things they'd figured out, the way Light would have killed us all. I desperately wanted to defend myself against the accusation, to show her I hadn't done it. I realized, though, that I might as well have. Even if she believed me about the notebook, that didn't erase the fact that I had shot Light.

Overwhelmed by that desperation, I looked at Aizawa, and he just stared back at me, but it wasn't with the forbidding don't-you-dare-tell-her look I expected. Instead, his expression appeared resigned and pained.

 _If she believes me, Ryuuk takes the blame, and maybe I can move on with her. At least as friends._

Or.

The alternative seemed unbearable.

Painfully, I remembered kissing her and holding her, listening to her voice. I remembered waking up in the hospital with her arms wrapped around me, and the gentleness of her touch. God she made me feel so much better just by understanding. She made me feel strong and important, like I could do things right. I didn't want to lose any of that.

"Sayu, for the last time," Aizawa said, ferociously, when it was obvious I had nothing to say. "Matsuda didn't kill Light. That's the truth."

The gunshots. The blood. I shot him.

"I killed him," I murmured.

"What?" Aizawa set his furious look on me. "What are you saying, moron? You did not!"

"I did. I shot him. Now he's dead. I must have killed him."

"Matsu—"

Turning on him, I shouted, "Shut _up_ , Aizawa! I'm tired of hearing everyone say I didn't kill Light when everyone knows that I did!"

"Matsuda, listen to me—"

"HEY!" Sayu shouted. "Both of you shut up! I can't believe this! I can't believe you decided not to tell me that _Matsuda_ killed Light!" She threw her head back, screaming, " _Fuck!_ Letting me run around with you—pretending to investigate—listening to me talk about wanting to kill Kira. Matsuda, you idiot!"

"Sayu." Instantly subdued, I turned to her again. "I'm sorry. I'm so, so sorry. If I could go back, if I had a second chance, I'd just as soon shoot myself as—"

"Is that supposed to help?" Her eyes glowed with hatred, and I knew I'd lost. "No matter what you say, my brother is dead!"

"But—"

"You think you're the big hero, killing Kira? You know what, Matsuda? You deserve all this! Everything Reaper is doing is because of you!"

My head dropped. "I know…"

"If you're really a man, you should give yourself up to him—at least that way no more _good_ cops will die! Especially not men, like my brother, who are worth two of you—"

Viciously, Aizawa seized her by the arm, leaning down and getting in her face. His lips curled back from his teeth, and his eyes were hard as stone, but his voice was deadly low. "Shut. Up. Now. Sayu."

She glared defiantly. "You know I'm right. He's—"

"He didn't kill your brother. Okay? _I_ did."

"Aizawa," I gasped.

Sayu stared at him, eyes shining with slight fear.

He jabbed his finger at me. "You think Matsuda could ever do something like that? You're so damn smart, so use your head. I shot Light. He would have killed everyone around him if I hadn't. He damn near got _you_ killed. That's the reality. Now get in the car."

Face drenched in hatred, she tore out of his grip. "I'm not going anywhere with either of you." She turned and started to walk away.

"Sayu, wait!" I scrambled after her. "It's dangerous!"

She stopped dead and whipped around. I nearly ran into her.

She gnashed her teeth at me, grating out, tone filled with unadulterated hate. "Get away from me, Matsuda."

"But…but I can't just let you—"

"I can't be around you. I'll never forgive you. I…I hate you."

Those three words trashed me, ripping all my courage and hope out, like I'd been eviscerated with a pair of scissors. No one had said that to me before. Not someone I loved.

Turning away again, she stomped up the street.

Aizawa clamped a hand on my shoulder, muttering, "Forget it. You'll never get her in the car now."

As I watched her start to run, like she couldn't get away fast enough, the crumbling inside my soul felt like it would break me.

"She doesn't understand, okay? Don't worry about it."

"How can I not worry about it?" I whispered.

"I don't know," he admitted, quieter. But it's not your fault. She—" His 8-bit text tone sounded off, suddenly, and he broke off, hesitantly, to check the number before answering. "Mogi?"

Meanwhile, Yoko stepped up on the other side of me, murmuring, "I'm sorry, Matsuda."

"It's not your fault," I told her hollowly. Sayu was just too smart. She'd taken the tiniest piece of information and put everything together, just the way Light would have.

"It is… Believe me."

Questioningly, I turned to her, distressed by the clear sound of conviction in her voice.

Aizawa hung up suddenly, looking like someone had just told him his wife and children were dead.

"What's wrong now?" I asked dully.

"Ide," he blurted, throwing his car door open suddenly. "Ide's been shot." He climbed in and started the car so quickly, I half thought he'd leave without us.

Yoko gave me an uncertain look before sliding into the back seat, but I watched a second longer as Sayu shrank into the distance, and I wanted nothing more than to run after her and stop her and beg her forgiveness. I couldn't. Even though I was tired and heartbroken, I had to find Akki Toyoshi and make sure he suffered for every last bit of trouble he'd caused me.

 _That won't make any difference. She would have found out eventually._

Even if I'd solved this case quicker and Sayu and I had gotten the chance to move on together, I couldn't have lied to her all her life.

 _So, there was never even a chance …_

Amazingly, that made me feel worse. We were so compatible it almost seemed like she had been my one and only chance to have someone, and now, watching her run away from me, hating me, unable to forgive me, I thought I must be doomed to die alone.

 _Even that wouldn't be so bad. I could deal with that. I just don't want to go through the rest of my life without_ her.

I wanted her to be there. Specifically her. Especially her. _Only_ her.

Now I'd never have her again.

The urge to scream clawed its way up my throat, and I couldn't hold it in a second longer.

"Sayu!"

My voice echoed through the street.

Sayu stopped running and lingered a second, not looking back.

"Sayu!" I bit back a sob. "I love you!"

It was only a second though, just another drop of pain in a never-ending sea, and I knew better than to think she'd come back to me, or that she could forgive me, or that she'd ever think of me as her friend ever, ever again.

When that second had passed, she kept running, and I climbed into the passenger's seat.

Aizawa peeled away before I could even close my door all the way, turning on the lights and sirens.

I stared after Sayu until we rounded the corner and she was out of sight.

It felt like the last good thing in my life had walked away.

* * *

 **Sayu**

* * *

The pounding of my brain and the burn in my lungs was nothing compared to the ache in my heart, so I ran as far and as fast as I could. Danger meant nothing. Risk meant nothing. I might disappoint my mother, but at least this way I wouldn't have to face her and try to hide the awful truth I'd learned.

 _No. It can't be true. Kira…Light… I can't believe the man I…_

No. I pushed it away, whether it was true or not, and I didn't look back. Even picturing him now hurt too much. Even thinking his name was more painful than I ever would have imagined.

Yet there he was, shining in my mind's eye like the sun, sweet and smiling, handsome and strong. Not strong the way most people would think of, I guess, but strong because he kept getting up again. He kept trying.

 _How could you do this to me?_

Tears poured down my face, blurring my vision.

So many things made sense now. The broken, strangely tragic Matsuda I'd met at Light's funeral wasn't like that because Light had meant so much to him; he was like that because he was the one to end his life in the first place.

 _I'll never forgive you for that. How can I?_

Aizawa could lie all he wanted about being the one to kill Light, but I saw the truth in Matsuda's eyes, glowing there with the darkness of regret and anguish.

Of course, it would be easier to believe it was Aizawa, or any one of the other detectives. Matsuda was so sweet and gentle, he'd never hurt a fly, so how could it be he'd killed my brother?

I thought back to the night he'd walked me home from Misa's apartment and how reluctant he'd been to discuss Kira's death.

 _Why didn't you tell me the truth?_

My brother… My precious older brother. My Light. My idol. My friend. How could he have been Kira? How could I have missed that?

We were never close, Light and I. True, we never really fought, and at the core of our relationship, I knew we had loved each other, but we hadn't spent a lot of time together. Nonetheless, to think of him being Kira while also remembering his gentle voice helping me with my homework… It felt like it would tear my heart in half.

 _How did it start? Where did you go wrong?_

If there was one thing I'd known about Kira from the beginning it was that he was evil and dangerous. After Dad and Light died, I'd vowed for revenge, tormented by the thought that I couldn't have it, drowning under the knowledge that I'd never see them again. I had so wanted to punish Kira for all of those feelings of helplessness.

Now that idiot told me Kira was part of my family. It had to be true—they wouldn't lie about something that terrible. Kira was Light—Light was Kira. Kira was my brother. Light killed our father. Dad was dead because of Light. The very thought made want to break down in the middle of the street and weep until I died.

 _Light…how could you?_

I wondered if he got what he deserved in the end, if he suffered as much as he should have, and if I wanted him to suffer. I no longer knew if I wanted his end to be long and terrible or quick and painless.

 _I just don't want it to be true._

Mom could never know any of it. The information would destroy her, and I'd be alone.

 _How did you do it, Light? Right under our noses?_

Everything was a lie suddenly. He'd probably killed people while I slept. He'd never loved Misa the way she loved him—I'd felt that several times when I was around them—but I had ignored it because it seemed good enough, and I was happy. Now I wondered if she'd had any idea that the man she loved was…

 _Maybe it's always a lie after all. Maybe a woman can never really trust the man she loves in the first place._

I slowed to a jog, thinking about the man who'd killed my brother. "Th-that bastard," I panted, leaning against the wall of the nearest building. I no longer knew where I was, I just wanted to escape from this world, walk away from everything, forget everyone, and start all the way over. "How. Could. He?" A sob racked my body, and my eyes burned with the tears. "D-dammit!"

If only I had known sooner. If he had come to me on the day of Light's funeral and confessed everything to me, at least then I wouldn't have taken the risk of…

 _You were always so sorry. You always seemed like you genuinely cared._

Trying to make up for guilty feelings, obviously. All this time I'd been blaming Kira, the NPA, and even myself for the fact that Light was gone, and now I had a face to stick it to. My brother's killer had a name, and that made my blood boil.

But my heart ached.

I started running again. I wanted to run from this hatred.

He was there when I needed him; I started to trust him. And then, one day I awoke to discover it wasn't about the case or the leads or the investigation anymore, it was about the fact that I just wanted to be around him and hear his voice on the other line, because I cared about him, and he made me feel safe again in a world where all the men who were supposed to be there for me had been killed by some faceless monster.

 _Not so faceless anymore…_

Images of my brother flashed through my head. I remembered being little and playing on the beach with him during a family vacation. I remembered sitting with him at dinner and making him help me with my homework. I remembered the day he started at university and how handsome he'd been in his suit. The memory that used to make my heart swell with pride suddenly hurt. Was he already Kira, even then? Was he always Kira somehow? Did he maybe get born into this world as Kira?

 _How did you do it Light? It seems impossible for one man to do all that alone._

I remembered the day before I was kidnapped, when Light and Misa came to visit, and I'd teased them about getting married. I realized that was the last time I'd really seen Light. I think he came to see me after that, but I was in a catatonic state, and all I remembered was a hazy image of him standing over my wheel chair, saying over and over, "I'm sorry, Sayu. I never meant for this to happen."

I slowed out of my run again, thinking hard. Aizawa said Light nearly got me killed, so was my kidnapping somehow Light's fault?

I vaguely remembered the kidnappers negotiating with Dad, bartering my life for something commonplace. Was it a notebook?

All of that was too blurry. It was easier to think about the day I saw Light and Misa at Mom and Dad's house, and how happy I'd been then. I had a boyfriend, I was finally out of high school, I loved my family, and everything had seemed like it was going my way.

 _He_ was there on that day also, and I'd teased him about getting together, even though he was so much older than me.

Since that day, my memories seemed to be full of him. The months between my kidnapping and Light's funeral felt like little more than a dream, and when I woke up again he was all I could see, coming to my mother and I with tears in his eyes, whispering "I'm so, so sorry," in a voice that throbbed with regret; almost, I had thought then, like he was personally responsible for our loss. I remembered the way he'd squeezed my hand, and how it woke me up a bit, that warm, gentle touch. Suddenly, I had felt ready to rejoin the real world. I had wanted to go out into it and find him again somewhere, the old Matsuda who'd been at my house that day. I had wanted to forget the broken-hearted man I saw at my brother's funeral and see him the way he used to be.

I did, too. Without meaning to, I'd stumbled across him, almost like he'd been looking for me also, and being around him had been so good I couldn't get enough of it. The night Misa died, I'd clung to him and buried my face in his shoulder, getting lost in every particle of his scent and the safety of his arms.

 _You infected me that night._

When I woke up the next day and heard the report about the men killed at the hotel, I'd been so scared that Kira was going to take him out of this world next.

I could have gone to any detective in the NPA and told them I wanted to help with the investigation, but I'd wanted to be with him.

Biting my lip, I stared down at my shoes, not wanting to remember the good times I'd spent with my brother's killer.

 _What were you thinking when you lied to me? Did you think I'd never find out?_

Today, waking up next to him in the hospital bed, holding him in my arms, feeling him breathe, had felt so good and natural, as if he was supposed to be there. His voice had given me so much comfort. That look on his face…

 _No, no! I have to stop thinking about him!_

After everything we'd been through together, and all the ways he'd made me feel alive again, how could I just forget about him?

 _What will happen to you now when I'm not looking? Am I just going to lose you too?_

 _Why should it even matter?_

 _What's going to happen to_ me _next?_

I remembered the hot feel of his mouth against mine and the soft texture of his face, and the way he smelled, so close. How could I let those feelings and thoughts go like they'd never existed?

 _"Matsuda, I'm scared."_

 _He reaches his hand out to me, and his eyes have that sparkle. His lips have that smile. I can't help feeling braver when he's with me._

 _"Don't worry, Sayu, it'll be okay."_

 _I grab onto his hand, and I never want to let go again._

 _I sit in the car with him, talking about Dad, watching tears run slowly down his face and drip from his chin one after another, feeling his hurt._

 _He lifts me off my feet and swings me around and around, boyish laughter filling the night. When I look into his eyes, I suddenly feel like I'm in love for the very first time, and when it's over his lips are locked against mine, and letting go of him feels suspiciously like being torn apart._

That man killed my brother.

Oh, but I'd lain awake thinking about him, wanting him, wishing he was beside me, hands burning where he'd touched me last, like that feeling would never fade completely.

Now I didn't know if I'd ever see him again, or if I even wanted to.

If only I could forget this night had ever existed. If only somehow I didn't know he'd killed Kira.

Suddenly, I regretted the things I'd said to him back there. He said he was sorry and that he would have rather shot himself than hurt Light, and I'd thrown it in his face that the Reaper was out to kill the others.

 _I can never forgive you. I hate you._

Could I actually hate him? Did I even want to? That would mean letting go of everything I'd felt in the last month, from the day he woke me up at Light's funeral, to this morning when I woke up beside him. It would be the same as forfeiting all the happy memories I had of Light just because he was Kira. Eventually, I might have to completely block out the fact that I'd known either of them.

 _I don't want that._

To disown my brother would be too painful. I had to keep loving him, to think of him as Light, my smiling, too-smart, big brother, and hold him in my heart that way until I died.

To push away the memories I had now of Matsuda, and ignore the feelings I had toward him, seemed just as bad. I didn't know if I could do it, but I didn't see what choice I had.

Through tears, I stared past the skyline of Tokyo at the rising sun, and I felt more lost than I ever had in my life.

 _Why is it like this? Light, how could you be so selfish and put me in this position? Why did you have to die without giving us any explanation? Why did it have to be the man who killed Kira is also the man I love?_

That feeling burst into flames inside me, scalding the inside of my heart and chest. Suddenly, I broke down, unable to hold back anymore, and I dropped to my knees, bawling my head off and gasping, "I love him… I love him… I love him…"

 _It doesn't matter_ , a voice inside me whispered. _You'll have to let him go. You can't be with him now._

 _Maybe in another life._

Fisting my hands against the concrete of the sidewalk, I lowered my face away from the sun and closed my eyes. I might as well get used to the darkness.


	21. Chapter 21

**Aizawa**

* * *

I stood over Ide, studying his white face and glassy eyes. Neck in a brace, shoulder in a sling, I couldn't remember the last time I'd seen him looking so weak, and it made me feel weak as well.

Exhausted, I sank into the chair beside his bed. "I'm sorry."

"What are you sorry for?" he wondered thickly. "I wasn't following your orders." He gazed blankly across the room. "If I had been, I doubt this would have happened."

"That's right," Kei murmured. She was injured also, and messy, but she wouldn't leave his side or let go of his free hand. "We went rogue…"

They were okay. It could have been worse—much worse—but even after several hours of waiting around the ER, my heart rate had barely slowed down at all. I'd gotten light-headed, and no matter who came and spoke to me, I couldn't seem to get a grasp on any words at all. The one and only thing I felt able to wrap my mind around was just how close I'd come to losing my partner.

With that, as always, there came some guilt. I should have been at his side, prepared to cover him or die beside him. But, no, I'd been dicking around in Kabukicho. Ide should have been with me. I'd told Matsuda I wanted to take him along, but he'd forced me into a corner insofar as, if I'd let him out of my sight, he might have gone by himself.

Fury mixed with the guilt until my chest felt so tight I could hardly breathe, but I struggled to keep it checked.

"You shouldn't have done that, Hideki," I said at last. "What were you thinking?"

Drowsily, he chuckled. "Just sicka Matsu hoggin' all the glory."

I glanced back at Matsuda, who lingered by the doorway with Mogi. He'd barely spoken since we left Sayu in Kabukicho, and he wouldn't look at me. Every time I got a glimpse of his moody expression, sympathy fought his way in to join the anger and guilt. I shouldn't have let Sayu run off. I shouldn't have let that disaster get so utterly out of hand. I shouldn't have taken her to Yama's with us in the first place.

"I'm tired of everyone risking their lives," I announced. "From now on, nobody moves a muscle unless I say so."

"Don't you think it was worth it?" Ide asked, eyes widening. "I talked to Tseng Rango himself—"

"No!" I snapped. "Tseng Rango has nothing to do with this case—he told you that himself! You almost got yourself killed! For nothing!"

The words seemed like they would carve a wound straight through me. After relying on him for so long, and in so many different situations, and letting so many other people fall to the wayside, the thought of a world without him restored the cold panic that had swallowed me when I answered the phone and heard Mogi say "Ide's been shot." I hadn't been able to drive away fast enough. Despite all the terrible things happening around me, the whole way to St. Luke's Hospital, I couldn't stop wondering what I'd do if he didn't survive.

I hadn't forgotten what Mogi had said about the rest of them just wanting to help me because they knew this was my big break, and they knew it was rough for me. Apparently, Ide had thought he could help me by going and talking with the yakuza, and by getting shot at for Shinda and Keki.

The death of Shinda was a hard blow also. He'd been a good and loyal officer in the wrong place at the wrong time. He didn't deserve to die for all this. Keki, though, I could hardly feel sorry for him, knowing he'd stuck a gun in Hideki's face while my back was turned. And then, to make matters worse, Ide had only gotten shot because his immortal sense of loyalty wouldn't allow him to leave a fellow officer—even a traitor—dead on the ground.

If Keki hadn't been killed in the fire fight, I might have murdered him myself.

"I'm all right, Shuichi," Ide reminded me with a sigh.

"You're out though," I told him softly.

"Nn. Yeah." He shifted in the bed, wincing as he adjusted his gun-shot shoulder. "Probably not much use to you this way."

Kei squeezed his hand.

Ide shut his eyes, and tried to tell myself I was just lucky—it was selfish to be angry that he couldn't finish this investigation with me, but I couldn't help it. Working without him felt unnatural.

Even on the Kira investigation, I'd found myself constantly turning to empty chairs beside me, asking questions out loud and expecting a snarky answer, looking for him in vacant rooms, imagining what he'd say if he were there.

Everyone knew it—at least, the chief and Eriko had known. Soichiro had mentioned, in passing, that if I could change Ide's mind about trusting L, he was always welcome to rejoin the task force. Eriko had pestered me, day after day, about why Hideki wasn't with me, how I felt about him being away, pointing out that I'd likely not gone a week without seeing him since the day we'd met. She didn't believe me when I'd told her it didn't matter to me.

After I'd left L and went back to the NPA, Ide had been just where I'd left him, tearing through case after case, alone, and the way we'd both pretended not to have missed each other. I'd sat down next to him at our desk, sliding him his favorite, stupid coffee drink from Starbucks, and he'd barely glanced at me, as if I'd only been away a few minutes.

" _I knew you'd get sick of that,"_ he'd muttered, with the faintest smirk. " _I've been expecting to find you here every day since you left."_

 _"Really?"_ I'd snorted. _"I was expecting you to come and find me every day since_ you _left, Hideki."_

And then we'd gotten back to our lives, but it hadn't taken more than a few hours before he'd noticed my depression and dragged it out of me what had happened with L, and the way he'd forced me to choose between my job and my duty to catch Kira. He'd only listened a moment, though, to my bitching about how stupid I'd been to trust L, before he'd interrupted me to say, _"The Shuichi Aizawa I know wouldn't whine so much. He'd do something."_

 _"Like what?"_ I'd wondered, irritated.

Ide's eyes had gleamed as he'd said, _"Let's catch Kira ourselves."_

Together, we'd organized some loyal officers and built our own task force, equipped with tinted cruisers and helmets. We'd known L would need the police before it was over. We'd been go-getters back then, and now it felt like we'd simply gotten old and lost most of the men who'd helped us trap Higuchi, but I'd been telling myself that was okay as long as we still had each other.

For all the times over the last twenty years that I'd reminded myself that Ide couldn't back me up forever, I'd still never figured out how to prepare for the day he wasn't with me anymore.

"Cheer up, Shuichi," Ide slurred, cracking a faint grin, and then jerked his chin at Mogi and Matsuda. "You still got those guys…"

Mogi stood at attention as I glanced at them, but Matsuda continued to stare at his shoes.

They were good. They wanted to help me. But neither of them was my partner of the last twenty years. They weren't Hideki Ide.

Today, six cops would die—if not more—and at the moment, I didn't feel like going out and risking my life or giving orders that would risk the lives of my men.

 _That's part of being chief. How can I stand it?_

Right now, I felt like Matsuda did—not cut out for the job.

A long moment of silence passed, and then Mogi cleared his throat. "He's right, Aizawa. We're still with you."

Matsuda mumbled, half-heartedly, "And we're really close to finding the Reaper."

Under his breath, Ide sang in English, "Seasons don't fear the reaper, nor do the wind, the sun, or the rain, and we can be like they are…"

"I know that song," Kei said hollowly, like she was just trying to get a grasp on who she was.

Ide stopped singing and gave her a scrutinizing look before deciding, "You're too young to know that song."

"It's an American song," she reminded him.

"Fair enough." He went back to singing, moving on into the chorus. "C'mon baby, don't fear the reaper…"

With a sigh, I rested my face in the heel of my hand, not wanting to think about anything else. Not the Reaper, not that fiasco with Sayu, not the fact that Matsuda had told Yoko that Light was Kira. I just wanted to listen to Hideki sing and pretend we were twenty years old again, working some dead-end suicide case.

"Hey, hey," Ide broke into his own song suddenly, and sat up with a wince. "Yo! Matsu-kun! What's with sharing classified information with Yoko?"

I blinked at him, a bit disbelieving. Even on painkillers, he was still the guy to say out loud the things that weighed heaviest on my mind.

Matsuda came to life suddenly, shaking his head. "I was drunk."

"Sure, sure. But did she ask? You were talking to me the other day… Well, I guess it was a while ago… When was it? You remember. You wanted to know what would happen if anyone found out… When was that? Do you remember?"

Matsuda shot him a questioning look. "Sure, I remember."

"Is that why you were asking? Was she prying?"

"This isn't really the time to discuss that," I grumbled at him.

Ide licked his busted lip and shrugged, groaning, before he slumped back down. "Hey, if Yoko knows, why not Kei too? Even Sayu knows now."

I shouldn't have left Sayu. At the time, I hadn't known what else to do. There was no way she would have left Kabukicho with us, and Mogi had just told me Ide got shot. As far as I knew, she'd shown up not long after us and returned to her mother, so no harm had been done, but I still felt foolish.

 _I shouldn't have let either of them go over there._

"So, was she prying?"

"I don't know," Matsuda sighed. "I don't think so."

With a groan, Ide raised his head up off the pillow "What do you mean you don't know?"

"I don't remember."

"Why would she ask about that?" I wondered suddenly. "What would Yoko need to know about Kira for?"

"She didn't tell me."

I couldn't help growling. "You still just blurted it out. You knew that information was top secret."

"Yeah…" He scuffed at the floor.

"You've got to remember something."

Matsuda suddenly glared up at me. "I could say the same thing to you, right? They questioned you for _days_ about all that."

"Yeah, so what?" I snarled. My interrogation was the last thing I wanted to think about right now; Ide had been there, every day, watching me through the glass, ready to bust me out if he needed to, or at least drive me home. Constant, trustworthy back up.

 _I almost lost him._

"Are you sure _you_ didn't blurt it out to someone to get yourself out of there?"

"You've got some damn gall." I sprang to my feet. "Accusing _me_ of leaking information! I went through all that to keep this exact thing from happening, and then you go blurting it out because you were _drunk_? If I'd known you were going to do that, I would have just told them!"

"All right," Mogi interrupted. "Everyone calm down."

Frowning, Matsuda left his place next to Mogi to go and look out the window.

"He's right," Ide agreed, starting to sing under his breath again. "Aiza-chan, gimme a cigarette."

"Not right now," I grumbled, still glaring at Matsuda. How insulting, to accuse me of outing him just to spare myself some discomfort.

Casually, Ide went on. "Maybe Yoko didn't even mean to tell Sayu-chan."

I hadn't been paying attention at the time to say—it seemed like everything had fallen apart within those few moments. I kicked myself for letting that happen.

After all, Ihadn't done Matsuda any favors lately; like Sachiko had said, as his superior, I'd completely failed to rein him in or protect him, and maybe that was simply because my personal feelings had gotten in the way, but he'd also made it obvious he didn't fully trust or respect me.

On the other hand, Sayu had helped Matsuda a lot, and in a drastically short span of time. When I remembered the day she'd brought us food at the scene of the fire, a tremor of regret resonated through me.

Suddenly, I asked, "Why didn't you tell her about the notebook?"

Everyone looked at me in surprise.

"I thought no one was supposed to know about the notebook," Kei murmured, glancing from one of us to the next. I didn't know how much of this she was following.

Matsuda faced me, speaking like I was crazy. "Yeah, Aizawa. No one is supposed to know about the notebook."

"I'm not saying you should have told her, I'm just wondering why you didn't."

"Wait…" Ide mumbled from the pillow. "Who are we talking about now?"

"Are you for real?" Matsuda's expression turned suddenly to anger. "I didn't tell her about the notebook because you would have killed me!"

"Then if I hadn't been there you would have told her?" I knew I was baiting him. Maybe I was even looking to vent some frustration. It wasn't right, but I was too agitated by all of this to care.

"Maybe," he sneered, with a sliver of defiance.

"You didn't go after her. Is that because I was there too?"

"I didn't know I was supposed to go after her."

"You thought it was okay to leave her in Kabukicho?"

"Aizawa," Mogi murmured. "Don't—"

"I didn't know what I was supposed to do at all!" Matsuda turned on me, eyes burning white hot. "If it's such a big deal to you, why didn't you go after her?"

"She isn't _my_ girlfriend, Matsuda!"

"She isn't mine either!"

"Especially not now! When are you gonna get your shit together and quit being such a kid?"

His voice filled the room. "When are you gonna quit being an asshole all the time?"

For a little while, I couldn't do anything but glare at him, and he glared right back at me, daring me to say anything else.

And then he said, "You guys keep acting like you're worried about me; what about _you_ , man? You've been a total jerk ever since we caught Kira!"

"I've been under a lot of fucking stress!" I snapped back at him. "Way more than _you've_ been."

"What would you know about—?"

"Who's be dealing with the bureaucracy? Answer me that! Who's done everything in their power to make sure you didn't get interrogated or go to jail for misconduct with your weapon? Who's been practically running the squad while you mope and dick around? Who's been responsible for _all of it_ ever since L pulled out and moved on to better things? Who's about to get a fucking divorce just because you can't fucking follow orders and stay put for a few days without throwing a fit and taking off like a spoiled brat?"

"Shuichi," Ide grabbed my wrist suddenly. "Quit yelling."

Louder than ever, I shouted, "Whose best friend just got fucking shot?!"

At last, Matsuda yelled back, viciously, "It's not my fault you weren't with Ide when he got shot! I—"

"Enough!" Mogi barked, sternly, but only just loud enough to cut Matsuda off, and then he turned to me. "Captain, go home to bed. You're breaking down."

" _I'm_ breaking down?" I wheeled on him next. " _Me_?"

"Yes," he snorted. "You've barely slept."

"I can't! Any time I try to do _anything_ my car blows up, or one of you nearly gets killed, or somebody disappears!"

Matsuda scowled.

"That's what I'm saying!" I threw my hands up. " _I'm_ the one holding this situation together, the least the three of you could do is not question me all the time!"

"Shuichi!" Ide croaked, barely able to raise his voice. "Turn around."

I was so angry, it took a second for me to understand what he'd said. "What now?" I ripped around, half prepared to yell at the next person I saw.

Eriko stood in the doorway, staring at me with her mouth hanging open.

I blinked hard, wondering if I was just imagining it out of the desperation of sleeplessness, but she looked beautiful even in the abrasive light of the hospital, fiery eyes shining, face flushed with emotions, and it had been so long since I'd seen her, even in her salmon sweater and khakis she was the most glamorous woman in the world.

"Hey…babe," I muttered, and slumped back into my chair, massaging my forehead. "What are you doing here?"

Eriko hesitated, and then asked politely, "Would you mind giving me a moment with my husband, please?"

"I am your husband," I snorted, still trying to rub away the tired ache between my eyes, but I heard the others shuffling around, and when I looked up, they were heading for the door, Mogi and Matsuda still shooting disbelieving glances at me. In a moment, it was just Eriko, Hideki, and I.

My wife crossed the room and stood over me, studying me a moment before shaking her head and looking down at Ide. "How are you feeling?"

"Um. Pfft. You know." Ide shifted in the bed and winced. "Been better. My neck's messed up, and I got shot."

"I'm glad you're alive." Gracefully, she leaned down to touch his shoulder.

"Besides, Shuichi and I sort of share emotions…he's pretty mad right now… That bothers me."

"Yeah…" She searched my face again. "I noticed that. But I don't think you share emotions, Hideki, I think you're just really important to each other."

"Oh. Pfft. You know I'm kidding." He smirked at me. "I just hate to see Shuichi so upset."

"I'm fine," I muttered, and turned to my wife. "How'd you know to come?"

"You called me, Shuichi," she said, matter-of-factly.

I barely remembered calling her—I'd been so afraid and distraught, all I'd wanted was to hear her voice, but it happened so early in the morning, a disjointed, somewhat idiotic message was all I'd managed.

"I guess this is the last straw for you," I muttered. "Get off the case or I'll leave you. Right?"

"Wow," Ide grunted. "Is it that bad?"

"No," Eriko told him. "It's not. I'm not sure why he thinks it is."

A bit surprised, I glanced up at her.

Sighing, she crouched down in front of me, taking my hands in hers and gazing deep into my eyes. "How are you? Really. No lies, no walls."

It had been a long time since I'd heard her say that—she'd started back when we'd only been dating a couple years, prompting me to be more open with her. Without lies or walls right now, though, I feared I'd fall apart.

"I'm really tired," I mumbled and then jerked my chin at Ide. "I'm really…angry…I let him get hurt."

"I'm sure it's not your fault," she murmured, threading her fingers through my hair.

"Maybe not. But it's more than that… Stupid Matsuda won't listen to me. Can't solve the case." I shrugged. "Can't even get home to see you."

For a long time, she looked up into my eyes, pretty face marred by sadness and worry. "The kids ask about you all the time—when you're coming home, what you're really doing—I don't know what to say other than you're out there doing your best."

"I'm trying. It's hard."

"Your best is really good," she said, unexpectedly, and cupped my face in both cool hands. "But it's not worth anything if you run yourself into the ground."

Some of my anger came back to life, and I couldn't help saying, "I want to go home, Eriko—of course I do—but I can't walk out on my guys."

Ide piped up, "Going home isn't the same as walking out on us. Just like we're not walking out on you when we go home."

"That's true, Shuichi," Eriko murmured.

"I know that," I growled, and rubbed the bridge of my nose, knowing I didn't have the strength now to argue with both of them if they got on the same team. "I'm telling you I can't leave the case, and, I'm sorry, but having a family just isn't an excuse. There's no way I can go home and put my feet up while they do this alone, so I don't know what you want me to say, because I am _not_ risking their lives—"

"Shuichi." She pressed a slim finger against my lips, hushing me. "I just came to see if you're okay."

"Well, I'm not," I said automatically.

"I know you're not. You haven't been in a long time. That's why I'm here."

Lightly, I ran my fingers along the elegant bones of her wrist, and even though she was with me, I still missed her so much I could barely stand it. I wanted to curl up with her, pull the blankets over my head, and just sleep for days upon days.

"I'm proud of you, you know," she said suddenly. "So are the kids. Yes, I'm worried sick, but I'm proud to be married to a man who fights even when it's dangerous and everyone else is backing down. It's hard to share you, sometimes, but I'm proud to be married to a man who's loyal to his friends." Tears swelled in her eyes at the words.

It felt like a huge weight had been lifted off me though; all through this, some part of me had been afraid to go home and fight with her and hear her tell me how inefficient I'd been. It was good to know she wanted to support me.

Eriko pressed against me, wrapping her arms around my shoulders and murmuring into my neck, "I still want you home—I want you safe—but if you left this case without solving it, I know you wouldn't feel proud of yourself, and I do want you to be chief—you deserve it. I want you to finish what you started.

Exhaling sharply, I leaned against her, squeezing her tight and resting my head on her shoulder, amazed by how safe it made me feel to have her delicate arms around me.

She whispered in my ear, "A lot has changed since we were young, but the fact that I love you is never going to change, Shuichi."

"I love you too," I murmured. "I'm so lucky."

Eriko kissed my forehead. "We're both lucky." And then she stood up, brushing her fingers along my jaw. "You need to rest, though. You're not going to get far in this condition."

"You're being about as stupid as Matsuda," Ide agreed from the bed. "And that's saying something."

"There isn't any time," I told them.

"Four hours," Eriko suggested. "Come home, take a shower, get a nap, and you'll probably feel a lot better."

"The case—"

"You _can't_ solve the case like this, Shuichi."

More and more, that seemed to be true, and to lie down, even for a few minutes, sounded too good to be true.

Reluctantly, I looked at Ide, barely suppressing a wince at the sight of his bruised face. "You'll be okay. Right?"

"Sure." He smiled. "Just a little sore."

"All right." I got up, finally. "Four hours."

Eriko held my hand, and we stood over the bed together.

Ide snorted out a painful laugh. "She's still one of a kind, huh?" He smirked at Eriko. "You're the only one he listens to."

"I've seen him listen to you a few times," she corrected, quietly. "So, take care of yourself."

"Don't do anything dumb," I added, under my breath.

Ide laid his free hand over his heart. "I promise, just as long as you promise not to beat yourself up. Even if you'd been there, you just would have gotten hurt too, and then who'd run this disaster?"

"Right," I sighed.

"We're used to being at each others' backs. It's not anybody's fault when we can't be."

"I know."

He reached out to grab my wrist, grip tight with hidden desperation. "Be careful, without me, Shuichi. Keki won't be the last to betray us. And Mogi and Matsuda need you at your best."

"Okay."

Again, he cracked a wan grin. "If you need me, I'll be right here."


	22. Chapter 22

**Mogi**

 _As soon as this case is over, I can join Near…_

Each tragedy in this event seemed to take me further and further from that idea, despite my resolution to remain focused, and I'd begun to fear I'd never have an opportunity to join Near.

Once Aizawa finished with Eriko, he gave us a short break, so Matsuda and I went back to Light's apartment for a few hours of sleep before we all reconvened at the diner across the street. Aizawa showed up a little late, but at least he looked better.

Having known him for years, of course I'd seen him give into fits of temper, as he had on the night Matsuda had innocently brought us soba for dinner, but I wasn't sure I'd ever seen him so hysterical, and I wasn't sure it all could be owed to what had happened to Ide. Naturally, he'd seen his partner come close to death before. Most notably in my mind was the time a perpetrator had attempted to run Ide over in his car while Aizawa stood nearby questioning a separate witness. I remembered seeing them at the station, later, Ide pretending it had never happened at all, Aizawa shaking with rage and snapping at everyone who crossed his path, but, at the time, he'd seemed dead set on two notions: the first, that Ide should go home for the evening, which he was refusing to do, and the second, that when he found the person responsible, they'd dearly regret the action. As best I could remember, he'd made good on that.

We'd all aged since then, but even so, I'd never known his temperament to be so consistently volatile. Blowing up at Matsuda for bringing soba had been odd enough, but after some of the things he'd done and said at the hospital, I had my doubts that he should continue with this investigation for much longer, and I thought he had a reasonable excuse for letting this one go and backing down some.

For years, Light had been in charge of the Kira investigation, keeping us from getting anywhere, and even when Near came into the picture, it hadn't given the four of us much guidance, especially after the case ended. Without an official superior to handle the semantics, Aizawa, our highest-ranked man on the task force after Soichiro died, and a natural leader, had assumed the role without thinking about it, and nobody had complained. However, unfortunately, he'd gone through many hardships alone, in an effort to protect us, and, incredibly, he'd gotten through it without compromising information, he'd kept us from being interrogated also, potentially saved our jobs, and put us back on track with the NPA, but it made sense that all of that—in addition to everything else—had stretched him thin.

Anymore, though, I wondered, if he hadn't stepped up, who would be running this investigation? Perhaps someone else would have caved into terrorist demands by this time, or else betrayed us outright. I did admire his resolve.

Ide being out of commission would undoubtedly intensify his strain, and I worried it could overwhelm him.

Acting like the hospital scene had never happened, he briefed us on the new information Matsuda got at Yama's, and then reassigned us, sending Matsuda and I to investigate at the Yotsuba office while he and Yoko went to Toyoshi's home. We accepted the orders without complaint, but everyone knew better than to expect to find our suspect in either of those locations.

I approached him, cautiously, before setting out, and although he watched me without showing much emotion, I felt as if I were walking up to a bull, unsure if my mere presence might jar him from his placid state and into an unexpected rage.

"How are you?" I asked, trying to find a reference point.

Aizawa shrugged and then rubbed the bridge of his nose; it had become impossible to tell if he had a headache or if he'd simply gotten used to the action. "Do you need something?"

His tone sounded tired, but not unfriendly, though I did detect a thread of warning in it, likely due to his expectation that I'd come to him to comment on his behavior earlier. I took a quick scan of the room. Yoko had gone down to the car, but Matsuda watched the two of us from a distance.

Nevertheless, I stood over Aizawa a moment, planning, as best I could, what to say, recalling, as best I could any helpful information from the fifteen years or so I'd known him.

We'd always gotten along. His temper nearly never bothered me, and I'd never noticed any insecurity in him concerning my silence. Rather, it had always felt that, although we had two very opposite investigative styles—his direct and aggressive, mine well-organized and tactful—we could sit in a room together for hours without saying a word, and neither of us be upset by it. On occasion, over my career, when Ide got either suspended, injured, or else called in sick, I had always been asked to substitute as Aizawa's partner, probably a request he made himself. I knew him well. I respected him. I even looked up to him. Although I cared deeply about this case and the way it might end, I also had begun to lose some composure over seeing a man I so admired in such pain, just as I'd begun to lose some composure over watching Matsuda suffer.

"Mogi?" Aizawa prompted, with a look of slight impatience. "We need to move out."

"Perhaps," I said, at last, "you'd consider handing this investigation over to me."

His eyebrows quirked upward, and behind me I heard Matsuda utter, "Oh, jeez…"

"Not because I don't believe you're capable of running it," I explained, at once. "You are stretched thin. Preoccupied. Distracted, even."

He frowned.

"If you allow me to take over, you'll be able to spend time with you family and stay near Ide. I'll call you if we need you."

Hesitantly, he lifted a hand to rub his goatee, and then his gaze suddenly darted to Matsuda.

"I'll look after him," I assured him.

At last, he sighed, "I don't know, Mogi. Let me think about it."

Various reasons might prevent him from giving the case to me. For one thing, it could cost him the promotion he allegedly had coming.

"Of course, sir." I gave a bow, and backed down, motioning for Matsuda to come along with me, and I thought it over as we headed to the car.

Matsuda's recent behavior would also play into what Aizawa might eventually decide. Possibly, he didn't believe I could control Matsuda, and I wasn't sure at all that I could. I didn't have the propensity for throwing my weight around that he did.

Furthermore, Aizawa likely would be concerned by the tactics Matsuda and I might explore without our regular superiors nearby to deter us.

Matsuda's idea to set up a sting using himself as bait still turned my stomach, but I had begun to wonder if that might be the only way to ever confront the Reaper in person. In fact, as we pulled up in front of the Yotsuba building, I found myself analyzing the idea, seriously considering advocating to at least reconsider it when we rendezvoused with Aizawa again.

In all likelihood, he'd shoot it down without allowing it much consideration. If I mentioned it, even, he might decide not to step down from the investigation after all, for fear that I'd get Matsuda killed while his back was turned.

As I cast an unobtrusive look at Matsuda, I could hardly wonder why. He already appeared so worn out and disturbed, and if anything went wrong, we might lose him.

To persuade Aizawa that the risk was worthwhile would take more than a few well-placed words. They had gotten unexpectedly close over the course of the Kira investigation, and, although he didn't wear it readily on his sleeve, I knew he cared deeply for Matsuda, and that he had placed a high value on Matsuda's trust and admiration for him.

Of course, we'd all developed some affection for him during those dark years when it had sometimes felt as if speaking with him was the only light we ever caught a glimpse of, but, for the most part, Ide and I had accepted, if not embraced, the fact that Matsuda evidently viewed us all as friends, and, six years later, Aizawa still sometimes seemed to be fighting against it. I'd witnessed the way various events had altered their relationship—Ukita's death had hit Aizawa hard, seeing Soichiro and Light incarcerated had chipped away at Matsuda's optimism, and, in those moments, because I was often elsewhere, they had been each other's only consolation, their superior-subordinate relationship the only normalcy either of them could find.

After all, one didn't simply work a bizarre case like Kira without losing some hope, and Matsuda, sensitive as he was, likely recognized Aizawa's significance to him for what it was; meanwhile, Aizawa seemed almost afraid to admit that Matsuda had become more than a coworker, perhaps out of some fear that he'd let him down or that Matsuda might get hurt on his watch. Who could blame him? Matsuda had made vast improvements since he'd joined the squad nearly ten years ago, but he was still naïve, trusting, and somewhat soft. I hadn't forgotten Aizawa's confession of how nervous he was to accidentally damage Matsuda's cheerful personality.

All things considered, I seriously doubted anything would ever prompt Aizawa to use Matsuda as bait, and I knew I'd never be able to live it down if I executed the plan myself and lost him.

Again, I sought to enhance my focus.

Focus wouldn't come easily these days, when each moment of the case felt more and more dire. Ide's brush with death, and the fact that I alone had stood between him and certain death ate at me as well. I couldn't stop thinking of how I'd been home not long before that, how if I'd slept through the night rather than adhering to my combat sleep schedule, he, Kei, and Arai would be dead.

That bothered me. I'd known him a long time as well. We'd never seen quite eye-to-eye, and there had been times I'd even doubted that he liked me at all. Sometimes, I hadn't been totally sure I liked Ide either, being that particularly since he was so suspicious of me, defensive at times, even jealous. Originally, he'd been convinced Aizawa would trade him in as a partner to work with me; admittedly, I'd half-hoped for it, because I'd thought we worked better together than the two of them.

Despite all that, Ide was a loyal friend and a steady superior. His ability to remain detached from bleak situations had been helpful and calming over the years, and I'd learned from him just as much as I had from Aizawa.

At the moment I'd approached the car and seen Ide crunched against the dash, I had doubted my decision to quit the NPA. It felt wrong to leave him or the other two just now; it felt selfish to think of myself at all.

In time, though, I'd have to get my life back on track.

On the outside, the Yotsuba building looked just the same as it had six years ago, showing no sign of the murders Kira had committed, and it struck me as ironic that a man like the Reaper—someone Light would have detested—had capitalized on the vacancies in the company he had opened up.

Still, I parked near the building, just in case we had to make a break for it, and I even considered asking Matsuda to stay and keep the motor running. He'd hate that, though, and I felt reluctant to leave him.

Through the entire drive, he'd stayed unwaveringly silent, but, at last, he gazed up at the building, and asked, suddenly, "You know Yoko pretty well, don't you?"

Obviously, Yoko's actions would be yet a third reason to make Aizawa reluctant to leave this investigation, and I couldn't blame him for being suspicious.

Yoko had asked me quite a few questions about Kira also; nothing that had hinted at anything more than natural curiosity, but, nonetheless, I wished Aizawa had paired me with her today so I could ask her a few questions of my own. The fact that he was with her instead obviously meant he wanted to do that himself.

"Do you think we can trust her?" Matsuda wondered when I didn't answer.

All I'd ever seen of Karisa Yoko was intelligence, loyalty, and honorable attributes. Not many women could reach the position she had, which meant she must have done something exceptional early on in her career, and her sense of justice made it hard to picture her betraying us.

"I do," I decided finally.

He sighed, raking his fingers through his hair. "If I just blurted it out because I was drunk…that would be really stupid."

What Aizawa had said must be bothering him. "Try not to worry," I advised.

"I'm trying," he muttered. "How can I help it? I might have blown the whole cover up."

"Even so, Yoko isn't the type to share that information."

Tiredly, Matsuda nodded, an unconvinced look on his face.

 _One thing at a time._

We got out, and then stood a moment under the skyscraper, checking up and down the busy street, for any sign of danger.

"Your gun ready?" I asked.

"Sure. Do you think I'll need it?"

"Assuming he's here, we'll have to arrest him." Based on this man's mode of operation, it seemed entirely possible this would come to a fight.

Side by side, we made our way to the entrance, Matsuda muttering, "I really hope he is here."

I had mixed feelings about that. On one hand, yes, I was more than ready for the case to be over and done with; on the other, I was concerned about what the Reaper would do when confronted by the man he wanted to sacrifice.

At the front desk, we were greeted with a disapproving look from a young woman with her hair piled tightly on top of her head.

Together, Matsuda and I were good at dealing with people; despite his worn appearance, he put on an infectious smile and an infallibly upbeat tone while I kept my eyes peeled for suspicious activity and answered her more pointed questions.

In the end, though, regardless of Matsuda's charm and my attention to detail, she insisted Toyoshi was out of town—not expected back at his office any time soon—and I knew we'd have to change tactics.

"The best I can do," the girl sniffed, fishing out a virtual organizer, is take a message for you. Mr…?"

Automatically, Matsuda glanced at me, but I was careful not to look back at him. Even though the Kira investigation was over, we were wary about giving out our real names, and it was out of the question for Matsuda to give out his alias now.

Casually, I told her that wouldn't be necessary, Matsuda thanked her for her help, and we walked back out onto the street.

"What now?" he asked. "Do you think she was just covering for him? Maybe he really is at home."

I paused to study the building again. The CEO would, of course, occupy an office on the top floor.

"It feels like a total waste to come here just to get chased away by a bossy secretary."

Next, I glanced toward the pristine, glass door, where businessmen and women clipped in and out. "You snuck in once before, didn't you?"

Matsuda gave me a blank stare. "Yeah. Wanna try that?"

It would be somewhat risky, but Aizawa wasn't going to be satisfied with the fact that we hadn't even made it past the front desk, so I had Matsuda show me the way he'd snuck into Yotsuba in the past. Security, according to him, had been tightened in the last six years, so it involved a lot of crawling on our hands and knees and ducking behind corners, but once we were past all that we were able to roam the building freely, and people assumed we belonged there. We asked for directions to Toyoshi's office, and as I expected, had to take the elevator all the way to the top, where we found our way into a large room, outfitted with a cocobolo desk in the middle and a huge balcony on the far wall. Shelves loaded with books, an arrangement of luxurious furniture, and a small putting green in the corner gave me only the vaguest idea as to his personality, and it smelled faintly of cigarette smoke but was meticulously organized.

Matsuda flopped down on one of the couches. "I wonder how much money this guy makes."

"Stay focused," I reminded him, gently. On the desk, I noticed a framed photo of a beautiful woman with two kids.

"This guy has a family?" Matsuda wondered, popping up behind me.

"There's no reason to assume he wouldn't."

"I guess. Just, after the way he murdered Chiba… Not your typical family man."

"To say the least."

He circled the room once, gun out, checking behind curtains and glancing through a few doors before returning to me and announcing, "Looks empty."

"Search for clues," I directed, already rummaging through papers. "Addresses, phone numbers, anything that could give us an idea of where to find him."

"Or connect him with the case, right?"

"I don't expect to find hard evidence."

"Unless he's stupid."

Seriously, I turned to him. "Do you think he's stupid?"

With a troubled expression, Matsuda touched his arm where the terrible k had been stitched up. "I don't know…what to think of him."

"He's crazy," I supplied. "But I doubt he's stupid." Even as I spoke, I pawed through a book full of business records, client lists, and reminders on sticky notes, but nothing incriminating. I moved to the drawers, opening each one from top to bottom until I found a couple deeds for property around town—a nightclub and an old theater. They were the only slightly useful things I'd seen so far, so I took a picture of them with my phone.

Meanwhile, Matsuda rifled through the bookshelf to my right. "Will we get in trouble for doing this without a warrant?"

"Probable cause," I reminded him.

"Yeah, but everything Momo said could be called hearsay." He yanked a book from the shelf, flipped through it as if he'd never seen such a thing before, and jammed it back into place.

"Nothing we find here will be admissible," I agreed, "but I doubt anything we find here will be helpful in court, either." All of this seemed a mere shot in the dark, and I thought again of how simple it would be to lure our man into a trap using Matsuda as bait.

Possibly, if Aizawa relented his commanding position to me, I could devise a safe way to do that.

"We need to arrest a shooter," Matsuda said, in a knowing tone. "Right?"

"That would be best." I found the bottom desk drawer locked, so I searched my pockets for a small pin to employ as a lock pick.

"Aizawa won't like this. Last time I suggested breaking and entering, he made it pretty clear that's not an option."

"I think Aizawa's getting desperate." If Matsuda nearly losing his life hadn't lit a fire under Aizawa, Ide nearly losing his definitely would.

I pried a small shoe box from the drawer.

Matsuda put another book back on the shelf and then crossed the room, sticking his gun in the back of his jeans. "I'm gonna check out this safe over here."

I glanced up to look at the padlocked safe tucked in the corner. "Don't take anything," I told him, only half-kidding.

"C'mon." Matsu slid a tire smirk at me. "This guy won't miss a couple hundred thousand."

With a quiet chuckle, I lifted the lid of the shoe box, and then stared in disbelief at the nine millimeter hand gun at the bottom. Admissible or not, it was all the reason we needed to arrest him.

"Matsuda," I hissed, "Look."

He wasn't listening, and his voice sounded semi-disdainful. "A padlock? Please. This'll be really easy to break into."

I got up quickly. "Matsuda, wait—"

By then, he'd busted the lock with the butt of his pistol, but he gave me a worried look. "What's wrong?"

I sighed. "Now when he comes back he won't have any doubts about whether or not someone searched this place."

"Oh." Matsuda's face fell and reddened slightly. "Right. I didn't think of that."

Of course not. He'd never been good at thinking ahead.

"Sorry, Mogi."

"What's done is done," I told him, though he really did need to practice reining in his impulses.

With another apologetic look to me, he opened the safe and peered inside.

I examined the pistol. It was clean, having not been fired more than once or twice, and the polished steel was free of fingerprints, but a loaded magazine sat in the well. I snapped a couple pictures of it. For all I knew, Matsuda tampering with the safe could have set off an alarm. We'd better leave and try to work around admissibility later.

I couldn't leave without taking some evidence that the gun had existed at all. Toyoshi might come back and dispose of it.

"I think I found something," Matsuda announced, producing a piece of paper from inside the safe. His voice hitched with excitement. "It's a phone number!"

"Does it say whose?"

"No. But I recognize it."

I set the gun aside and went to kneel next to him." What do you mean?"

He looked up at me seriously, and now the excitement sounded more like anxiety. "It's Commissioner Oshima's number."

I took it from him to examine it, but it was certainly the commissioner's cell phone number.

Oshima hadn't been particularly helpful ever since this case got started, but I had assumed he just wanted to stay out of it because it was dangerous and controversial. Maybe he even wanted to see how Aizawa would handle it since he was about to get promoted to chief.

Matsuda broke the silence. "Would Oshima betray us?"

My heart sank as I considered the possibilities.

"Best not to jump to conclusions," I husked, taking a picture of the number. It was bad enough to find it here, but the fact that it was locked up in a safe boded ill. Best case scenario, Toyoshi might be bribing Oshima. "Let's get out of here."

He didn't move or answer.

"Matsuda." I gripped his shoulder. "We've seen enough."

"Mogi…" he grated out in a low voice.

I realized he had one hand behind his back, gripping his gun, and his wide eyes were shadowed with fear, mouth open slightly so I could see his teeth behind his lips. He held perfectly still, like a rabbit in the face of a natural predator, staring over my shoulder, toward the door.

I whipped around, reaching for my own gun.

The man who'd entered the room was unbelievably tall and dressed all in black. His bald head had a faded tattoo of an Egyptian hieroglyph scratched into the thin skin, and his hooked nose looked busted. Bruises mottled his face, but he advanced slowly, 45 caliber handgun already leveled on us.

"Anubis," Matsuda rasped.

Stomach flopping, I realized this was the man who'd tried to kill Matsuda last night. He must have followed us somehow. He may even have had eyes on us ever since Matsuda was admitted to the hospital. Clearly, he'd taken our venture into enemy territory as an opportunity to come after the two of us.

In a voice like black ice, he warned, "Don't move. Throw your weapons down."

Based on the stiffness of his movements, he was injured, possibly from his fight with Matsuda last night, but I was in no position to try anything.

I tossed my gun to the ground.

Slowly, Matsuda followed my lead.

"Both of you stand up."

My legs quivered as I rose, and I couldn't stop staring down the gaping mouth of his barrel. I thought of the gun I'd left on Toyoshi's desk. Reaching it might be the only chance I had to get us out of this alive.

Anubis kept his frigid gaze on Matsuda. "You were a fool to poke your head up again, little policeman."

Matsu shuddered.

With a deep breath, I seized him by the back of the jacket and shoved him forward, shouting, "He's the one you want! Just take him!"

Face stricken with horror, Matsuda turned to me, and Anubis' smile dropped a bit.

"Take him," I insisted. "Please! I know he's the one you're after! Just spare my life!"

"Mo-Mogi…" Matsuda stammered. "You—"

"Why should I die for you, Matsuda?" I demanded, stumbling back toward Toyoshi's desk, trying to look scared witless. "You know you're the one he wants!"

Hurt and disbelieving, he stared at me. He didn't know about the gun on the desk. He'd forgive me.

"Just take him!" I insisted, leaning against the desk, shaking. I was so close, and still so far away.

"Mogi, you can't be serious!" Matsuda screamed.

Anubis laughed, viciously. "Maggot!" He pointed the gun at me. "You're the kind of filth Kira would wipe out anyway."

 _Now or never_.

Mustering all my courage, I dove under the desk. "Take cover!"

A few shots rang out, shattering the glass behind me. One corner of the desk exploded in a cloud of splinters.

I dropped to my stomach, fumbling with the nine-millimeter. It seemed especially heavy for such a small gun.

Another shot rang out, and I pressed myself against the desk, hoping it would provide some protection. The Reaper wanting him alive may or may not save Matsuda, temporarily. My gaze roamed what little of the room I could see, looking for him.

In front of the safe, our standard-issue pistols lay in the open.

Matsuda screamed my name suddenly.

I jumped to my knees and steadied the gun on the desk top.

Immediately, a boom shook the room, followed by another explosion of cocobola wood. Pain blasted through my stomach, and blood sprayed. _My_ blood.

Shouting, I squeezed the trigger, the ringing in my ears drowning out the sound of gun fire and even my own voice.

The shot hit Anubis right in the chest but didn't faze him. He stormed toward me, a ghoulish smile filling his face.

Desperately, I fired again, over and over, but my hands were shaking.

Another boom echoed through the room. My heart skipped a beat. Pain poured down the middle of my body.

I looked down.

 _So much blood…_

 _Where did it hit?_

 _I'm gonna die…_

Snarling, Matsuda threw himself against Anubis, making a grab for the gun.

Weakly, I fell forward, dropping the gun and grabbing feebly at the slick top of the desk. I watched, dully, as Matsuda tussled with the assassin.

I should be worried, but all I could think about was the pain taking over my body, and the darkness flowing through my mind. My vision dimmed. Black flooded in from the corners of my eyes. Hot liquid drizzled from my mouth, and the taste of copper coated my throat.

With a curt blow to the head, Anubis knocked Matsuda to the floor. Numbly, I watched him press the gun to my friend's forehead.

I heard Matsuda screaming my name over and over.

Didn't he care he was about to die?

My legs gave out. There was a strange, rushing sensation, like a hurricane blowing through the room. I realized I was falling. I sucked in air, but it felt like I was breathing through a tiny straw…like one of those little stirrers you get with your coffee… By the time I hit the floor, I felt light as a feather, but my arm bruised under my own weight.

Wheezing, I lay on my side, struggling to rise. My arms collapsed beneath me immediately.

The last thing I saw before blacking out was the muzzle of the gun digging into Matsuda's forehead.

And the last thing I heard was one resounding shot.


	23. Chapter 23

**Aizawa**

Shots rattled from down the hall, and I ran for all I was worth, Yoko racing right beside me, fear plastering her normally calm face.

"Dammit!"

Our investigation hadn't taken long or yielded much, so I'd decided to meet up with the others, neither had answered his phone, but we'd found their cruiser at Yotsuba. From down the street, we'd seen Anubis enter the building, and we'd hurried after him, but we were going to be too late.

Another shot. Someone screamed.

Shoes slipping on the polished floor, I sped around the corner and bolted for the open , the hulking form of Anubis crouched over Matsuda with his gun pressed to his head, but Matsuda stared at the opposite side of the room, shouting Mogi's name.

Behind the desk, a pool of crimson spread across the marble floor.

I charged in.

Anubis looked up, shocked as hell.

I pulled the trigger. My aim was dead-on.

The bullet hit his face and burst out the back of his skull, leaving a black, bloody hole in the middle of his forehead. His eyes went blank, and the gun clattered as he keeled over.

I kept my weapon leveled on him as I circled around to kick his pistol away from him. "You okay, Matsuda?"

I offered him my hand.

Struggling out from under the body, Matsuda scrambled up. He pushed past me, though, and stumbled to kneel behind the desk. "Mogi! Quick! Call an ambulance!"

Yoko ripped her cell phone out. I jaunted to stand over Matsuda. Mogi lay on his side, clutching his stomach. Blood poured from his mouth, and his clothes were slick with it. The stench of iron clotted the air. Shot in the stomach… Oh my fuck, what a way to go…

"Mogi!" Matsuda hammered against his collarbone, trying to bring him around, but a gray pallor crept steadily over Mogi's skin.

Peaceful, but shrouded in his own gore, I couldn't tell if he was alive. I dipped down to take his pulse. It fluttered, weakly.

"The ambulance is on its way," Yoko announced, dropping next to us. "Turn him on his back. Watch his head." Together, we rolled Mogi's body. She tore his shirt open, exposing a snow-white chest.

Blood bubbled from his stomach, a small, crimson spring. Yoko smeared some away. Sickly, I watched her fingertips delve into a jagged hole. "Hemostat," she ordered.

"I don't have any," I husked. That had been in my car. My car was gone. I should have replaced it. But Ide always carried the first aid kit.

Eyes burning with panic, Matsuda looked up at me. "Ai…" he choked, voice tight and trembling like he just wanted to scream. "Ai…he's gonna die! We've gotta do something!"

I'd been cast out to sea. Both of them were shrinking into the distance.

"I know, I know." I tore off my shirt, shredding one of the sleeves at the seam.

"We can't just sit here and watch Mogi die!" Matsuda shouted, desperate, scared. He'd lost his head.

"Well." I threw my sleeve at Yoko, who wadded it up immediately and held it tight against the wound. "The ambulance is coming."

"Let's get him to the car!" Matsuda suggested. "The ambulance is taking too long!"

Already two minutes had passed. It felt like two seconds. Mogi's blood seeped into my slacks.

I drew a deep breath. "He must weigh twice as much as you." Shaking, my hands jumped from pocket to pocket until they found my wallet. I tossed that to Yoko next. "Pressure."

Nodding, she packed the wallet on top of the shirt piece. "I need a tourniquet."

"We should at least try!" Matsuda's breath spilled down my ear. "The ambulance is taking too long!"

"Shut up, Matsuda." I ripped my belt off next. Mogi had always been bigger and stronger. That was rare for me. When we were young, I'd felt jealous. I never could have guessed I'd see him in this wretched state. "This might be just long enough."

Yoko snatched it, doing her best to get it under Mogi's body and around his middle. I moved in to help, but my hands shook.

Like everything else, this was my fault. I didn't know how to fix it.

 _I should have kept them both with me. I should have been here. I should have solved this case days ago. I should have let Mogi run this investigation to begin with—he's better than me at everything._

He would have solved it. I'd thought having him at my side would suffice. Now I might never see him again with his eyes open.

 _I failed him._

"Aizawa!" Matsuda caught my arm.

"GODDAMMIT, MATSUDA, WE'RE DOING EVERYTHING WE CAN!"

Matsuda stared up at me, breath catching to say more.

"Shut up! Just shut up!"

"Aizawa," he sputtered, like he was about to burst into tears. "Mogi's gonna die!"

The words felt like a bolt of ice through my heart. My eyes stung.

 _Mogi's too young…_

Thirty-what? Thirty-five? God, just yesterday he was nineteen and fresh from the academy, showing up men who'd been on twice as long as he'd been alive. A class-A investigator from the beginning.

 _He deserves to be chief. Not me._

I began to pace, back and forth, to the window and to the door, muttering curses as I went. "What the fuck do you want from me, Matsuda? It's too late! _I'm_ too late! It's all my fault—are you happy?"

"No time for this," Yoko snapped. She'd gotten the belt around Mogi, but blood still gushed from the wound.

I staggered against the wall. I just needed to think.

"There has to be a way to transport him out of here!" Matsuda insisted. "He needs a doctor!"

"God!" I jammed my bloodied fingers through my hair. "You are no help! For the last time, just be quiet!"

"Aizawa—"

I leapt forward, gnashing my teeth in his face. "We can't move him. It'll make it worse. Do you understand?"

"Great," he snarled back. "Let's just sit here and watch him bleed to death!"

"What do you want me to do, Matsuda? Scour the area until I find a doctor?"

He stared wide-eyed at me, trembling. The look on his face made me want to cry. "Aizawa, he—"

"Fuck it all, that's what I'll do!" I slammed my gun into its holster, shoving by him, roughly. "I'll go out and find a goddamn doctor! Hello? Hello! Is there a doctor around here?" I stomped across the room and hung my head out the door. A group of employees had gathered there, whispering to each other, pasty-faced and stupid. "We need a doctor!" I yelled at them. "Is anyone here a doctor? Shit, you'd better answer me! Someone bring the fucking doctor up here!"

"Aizawa," Matsuda yelled. "Stop!" He grabbed my arm, but I jerked away.

"Are you all stupid? Our friend is dying! Who's a doctor?"

They looked blankly back at me. Just more selfish assholes who didn't care if we lived or died.

Hemostat could save Mogi's life. Ide always carried some.

 _Where is he when I need him?_

In the hospital, because I let him get shot.

"You're all useless!"

"Aizawa!" Matsuda snagged my shoulder again, jerking me back, and now he looked angry. "Cut it out!"

"You!" I pushed him. "You're useless too!"

Rage flashed in his eyes. "This isn't my fault!"

"If Ide had gone with Mogi he'd be alive right now! But no! No, it had to be you! Because Ide's hurt! And Ide's hurt because I was in goddamn Kabukicho with you last night, making sure that asshole didn't kill you!" I jerked a finger at Anubis.

His expression darkened, and I knew I might as well have punched him in the face. That was what I wanted though, to blame someone—anyone. Anyone but me.

On the floor, Yoko gaped at me. "Aizawa…"

Matsuda tried to answer, but I jumped on him immediately.

"We're all running around, dying, taking bullets for _you!"_

Fury came to life in his eyes like fire. He lunged, swinging one well-aimed fist. It connected perfectly with my jaw, and the next thing I knew I was on my back, staring up at his snarling mouth.

"I _told_ you and _told_ you how I thought we should handle this case! So, don't you dare say that! Don't you _ever_ fucking say that!"

I rubbed my bruised jaw. I couldn't believe he'd hit me. I'd only ever seen him take a punch and whine about it. Ide said because he didn't have brothers. I thought it was just because Matsuda didn't like hurting people.

 _He's reached his limit._

 _I let all this happen to him._

 _I've reached my limit too._

Enraged, I jumped to my feet and struck him in the stomach. It felt good to unleash some of that anger. I watched him totter back and crumple to his knees.

` "Stop it!" Yoko ordered.

In the distance, sirens shrieked.

Matsuda stumbled to his feet, shaking hands still holding his stomach.

"You just had to be a hero!" I spat. "If you had laid low like I told you to, the Reaper wouldn't know who you are. He wouldn't have sent some Russian assassin to kill you! Mogi would be fine!"

Yelling, he charged, slamming against me. We smashed to the floor, rolling and landing wherever we could. I threw him off and managed to get to my feet. I kicked him in the stomach. Matsuda recovered quickly and rushed me with both fists. One delved into my gut, the other hooked my jaw. I saw stars.

Yoko jumped between us, screaming, "Stop it! Both of you! Mogi's dying!"

 _Mogi's dying…_

Matsuda glared daggers at me.

I had to turn away, shaking. What was wrong with me? Fighting over Mogi's body as he died…

 _I'm so angry... And everything is falling apart._

Eyes still boring into me, Matsuda stumbled back and snarled darkly, "This isn't my fault, Aizawa—it's yours."

Outside, the sirens seemed to be just below us. Maybe if they hurried…

It was too much to hope for.

There were only three of us left now…

 _Without Mogi…_

Everything sounded impossible without Mogi and his sense of logic and his stoicism and his unwavering kindness. He always picked up on things I missed. He always stayed calm and put things into perspective.

After Ukita died, I'd swore to myself I wouldn't let anything happen to Mogi or Matsuda.

I failed.

 _Can I solve this case without him? Can I face every day knowing I got him killed?_

No matter whose fault it was, there would only be the three of us from now on.

"God…" I sank to the floor, chest tight, holding my head. "What are we gonna do without him?"

 **Yoko**

"I remember I used to wonder if Mogi even had a home," Matsuda said, in a dream-like tone.

I watched Aizawa pace, struck by how exhausted he looked. In the stark lights of the ER waiting room, his eye sockets had become black pits, his face gaunt and ghostly. From time to time, I even imagined I saw a shock of white hair sprouting near his left sideburn, but that was merely the lights and my own fatigue conspiring against me.

"He was always at the station," Matsuda babbled. He'd gone pale as the wall he leaned against, and red-rimmed eyes gave away the fact that he'd been crying. Probably when he accompanied Mogi on the ambulance. Though I'd refrained, I felt tempted to let a few tears slip as well.

Nothing wore harder on an officer than watching your comrades be taken out one by one. For my part, I'd been keeping it together since Chiba and Okoshi died, but this was getting to be too much.

"I remember," I husked. "I could never convince him to go home at night."

"I never really knew what he was doing." Matsuda raked his fingers back through his bangs. "Even if I asked, he almost never answered. Sometimes, I wondered if he could even talk."

"Stop talking about him like he's dead," Aizawa ordered, quietly.

Matsuda sank slowly into a chair. "He was just as bad on the Kira investigation. Always still awake when I went to bed, making breakfast when I got up. He made me feel so lazy."

Ashamed, I stared at my shoes. I felt as if I'd exploited those memories the night I coerced him into telling me about Light. Even if I hadn't, I'd destroyed his relationship with Sayu. I couldn't decide if I'd done that on purpose or not.

I tried to think of something kind to say.

"Mogi is special," I reminded them. "He's going to be just fine.

Glazed eyes staring straight ahead, Matsuda nodded. "Yeah. Of course."

Ever the cynic, Aizawa reminded us, "That doesn't improve our situation very much."

It was somewhat cold in the face of our optimism, but I knew he had to think that way right now.

"Do you have to be like that?" Matsuda wanted to know. "Right now?"

Aizawa halted in his steps and twisted around to give him a measuring look.

Nervously, I waited for their emotions to reignite. Not long ago, while Matsuda had been missing, Mogi had confided in me that he'd always considered Aizawa and Matsuda to be the volatile half of their task force. According to him, Ide truly cared about very little, and he was himself unerringly rational. It was the other two who possessed unpredictable tempers and caved beneath impulsive actions, and who bore with them all the passion. He'd called it a contributing factor in the situation at hand.

Still, before today, though I'd seen some suggestions of that in their daily actions, I'd never imagined they'd both snap and go to blows at the sight of dying Mogi. Both had calmed since returning to the hospital, but watching how irrationally and how hatefully they'd fought—sweet, optimistic Touta Matsuda, and strong, charismatic Shuichi Aizawa, going at it like mortal enemies—made me feel like the Reaper was going to win.

They'd barely spoken to one another, but I'd caught glimpses of shame and guilt in both their gazes.

Aizawa finally answered, coldly. "As much as I'd like to sit down and swap Mogi stories for the rest of the day…yes, I do have to be like that. We have leads to check out."

Toyoshi's housekeeper must not have any idea he was the Reaper. When we'd spoken with her at his giant manor, she'd been all to happy to tell us about some of the other property he owned around town, though, she'd warned his not to expect to find him there. She'd insisted she didn't know where he was.

Regardless, Mogi being down meant we had to work all the faster.

"As long as we can find him," Aizawa went on, "the gun in his office gives us the perfect excuse to pick him up for questioning." Despite how smoothly he said it, I had no doubt the man responsible for all of this would be in for a rough interrogation once the captain got him into the box.

"We snuck in, though," Matsuda reminded him, quietly. "It won't be admissible—"

"I don't give a damn if it's admissible," Aizawa snarled. "The man runs a crime syndicate. He's apparently smuggled dozens of illegal weapons into he country. There will be more evidence to convict him." His eyes hardened and he clenched his fists, but his voice dropped to a vicious whisper, "I'll lay you even money he'll confess to me."

Matsuda gave a small laugh. "You gonna beat the hell out of him too?"

Aizawa's eyes narrowed. "You hit me first, Matsuda."

"Not as hard as you hit me."

"It's not my fault you're too stupid to know better than to pick fights with people who are bigger than you."

"Woah, woah," I jumped in, before Matsuda could shoot anything back. "Don't you two start again."

They continued to glare, as if I hadn't spoken.

I swallowed, hard. "You two…aren't going to make it very far if you keep fighting with each other."

Both remained silent, but I thought I noticed the shadow lift from Matsuda's eyes, replaced by regret; Aizawa heaved a brief sigh and then turned away.

Emboldened, I added, "These past few days have been really hard on both of you. No one can blame you for losing it on each other, but it's bad for the investigation."

Neither moved.

"You owe one another an apology."

A long silence endured, neither of them looking at the other. A wave of hopelessness hit me again.

"If you won't apologize to each other, I'm afraid—"

Stiffly, Aizawa jerked around, thick lips cocked in a pained wince, eyes lit with such emotion, I thought he was about to start screaming again, but, instead, he rasped, "I'm sorry, Matsu. I shouldn't have said any of that to you. I didn't mean it."

He'd never seemed like the apologetic type to me, but though his voice lacked the volume I'd expected, it carried the same passion, and I couldn't help staring at him a moment, shocked.

While I was reeling, Matsuda muttered, "I didn't mean it either." He rubbed his knuckles, freshly broken open and bleeding again. "I'm sorry I hit you."

Aizawa touched a thumb to his bruised mouth. "I had no idea you had such a mean right hook on you."

Sadly, Matsu smiled. "I was in martial arts club in high school."

"Yeah, well, try to pick your battles better next time," Aizawa snorted. "I'm a lot bigger than you."

"And older," Matsuda chirped, with a ghost of his old attitude.

The captain's face dipped in another dissatisfied frown, but he simply emitted an indignant sniff before locking gazes with me, as if to ask if I was happy.

As far as apologies went, it was more or less what I expected from a couple of men, but I gave an approving nod.

"Now that that's out of the way," Aizawa resumed, "let's get back on track. Yoko, you go check out the address we got for that theater. I'll head to the nightclub. Matsuda—"

"What?" Matsuda squawked.

"Split up?" I demanded, not a second after him.

Aizawa explained, simply, "We'll cover more ground."

"Aizawa," I hissed, feeling somewhat angry. "Look what happened to Mogi!"

He heaved another sigh and faced the room across the hall, where Mogi hung between life and death. Quietly, he admitted, "I made a mistake. After Ide got shot, we should have all stayed together."

We would have, I thought, if he hadn't been determined to question me about everything that had happened in Kabukicho, and, again, my guilt was nearly too heavy to bear.

"Solving the case quickly is our only chance to survive, and these people have made it clear that going in pairs can't protect us."

"There are three of us," Matsuda pointed out, in a soothing tone, as if he just wanted to remind Aizawa that he was still there with him.

But Aizawa shook his head, and I noticed the pain in his eyes. He was bursting at the seams. "I shouldn't have let you anywhere near Toyoshi's office. You're staying here."

Matsuda's jaw dropped, and I winced. He sprang to his feet, and I knew the fight was about to start all over again.

"You can't actually expect me to sit here!"

"I'm so tired of fighting with you," Aizawa groaned, and rubbed the bridge of his nose. "I don't expect you to sit here. I can't force you to sit here."

Defiance burned in Matsuda's eyes, and I knew Aizawa had utterly lost control of him. "Well, then, what—?"

"I'm _begging_ you to stay here," Aizawa interrupted, though he hardly had to raise his voice.

Matsuda stopped mid-sentence to gape at him, incredulously.

Tiredly, the captain threw his hands up. "Look. Kicking you off this case hasn't worked worth a damn—I've tried over and over—and if I thought I could watch your back, I'd bring you along." Lightly, he shut his eyes. "I'm not sure I have what it takes to protect myself right now."

A chill sped down my spine.

"All I know is…these people will stop at nothing to see you dead. I'm not even convinced you'll be safe here. I would just feel so much better if you stayed put."

And then I understood what he was doing, and as much as I feared what it might mean for us, I had to respect it.

Kira had isolated the task force from the rest of the world, as I'd noted before. Whether that was something they'd wrongly perceived and therefore did to themselves, or if it was simply because the rest of the NPA hadn't wanted anything to do with the Kira case, it hardly mattered. Clearly, they stood on an island of their own, one full of secret pains and agonizing memories. With Mogi and Ide both out for good, Aizawa had no one left but Matsuda, and vice versa. I knew they'd each do everything in their power now to protect one another.

But Matsuda going off on his own again, even out of his desire to help Aizawa, would only make matters worse.

"I can't stay here, Ai," he insisted, louder than Aizawa had. "I can't just do nothing while you—"

Softly, I interrupted, "Someone has to stay with Mogi."

He whipped around to stare at me next.

"She's right," Aizawa said quickly. "Just stay here, all right? We'll be back in a few hours." His eyes drifted to Mogi's room again. "And if anything changes…tell me."

Nodding slowly, Matsuda dropped back into his chair. "Okay. Fine."

The two of them looked at each other for a long time, until I felt like they even forgot my presence, alone, remembering things I wasn't allowed to know, sharing thoughts beyond me, each contemplating how to keep the other alive.

"See you soon," Aizawa mumbled, desperately.

"Yeah," Matsuda agreed, frustrated. "See you."

Aizawa marched up the hall, and Matsuda gazed out the window.

I lingered, wishing I could apologize for what happened between him and Sayu, or that I could tell him how I felt about all the things I'd done. Maybe, in time, I could allude to some of the strange emotions now haunting my mind, but for the time being, I had a case to solve, and a captain who needed me.

"Bye, then, Matsu," I murmured, turning to follow Aizawa.

Once I'd caught up with him, we walked to the parking lot in silence, where, with a distant expression, he reiterated my orders to investigate Toyoshi's theater, and the slow, uncertain way he spoke made it sound as if he was having a dream. I wished he would have at least considered taking Matsuda with him.

"I'm nervous to go alone," I admitted.

Slowly, he nodded. "Yes. Me too." I hadn't forgotten what he'd said about feeling unfit to so much as defend himself, and I knew Ide's being shot continued to have an adverse effect on Aizawa. I'd noticed it when we went to investigate Toyoshi's house together—he acted so out of focus, I'd even offered to drive, because he kept running red lights and turning the siren on so he could weave around other vehicles. He seemed completely different from the man who'd heretofore been running this damnable investigation. Without a doubt, he would have held himself together better had Ide been with him.

Their relationship was something I didn't quite understand. Personally, I'd never cared for Ide, who had a tendency to come off as being too full of himself and even a little condescending. I didn't like his attitude toward women either, how he seemed to believe we were all simply blood-suckers, but, then, based on the pedestal he'd apparently placed Aizawa on, I'd often mused to myself that he might just be an extremely frustrated gay man who didn't know how to get out of the closet. After all, it was no secret he'd cared more about working with his old partner than he had about catching Kira.

At least working with him the past few weeks had given me the opportunity to see him through the eyes of his friends. He was actually quite charming beyond the icy walls of his narcissism, and Aizawa put a lot of stock in what he had to say. I'd seen first hand the way Ide's laidback remarks reined in hot-headed Aizawa's lapses in propriety, and I'd noticed that having Aizawa around gave Ide focus and drive when he was otherwise prone to doing his own thing. During this investigation, as Aizawa unraveled more and more, I'd seen how Ide kept him grounded, constantly nagging him about going home and not pushing himself so hard.

Surely having someone threaten to destroy a partnership that important would be earth-shattering.

"Aizawa," I said suddenly, "if it's unlikely he'll be at either of those locations, we might as well stay close."

Aizawa shook his head. "No. I want to be able to come back here as soon as possible."

Even just leaving, I realized, would be incredibly difficult.

"Yes, sir."

"Fly low, though—don't do anything without me, and don't hesitate if you have to call for back up." He climbed into his cruiser.

"Same to you," I told him, sternly.

Surprised, he looked through his window at me.

"I cannot finish this investigation without you. And the last thing you want is for Matsuda to go and face Toyoshi alone."

He gave another slow nod. "Right. Of course. That is the last thing I want." He meant that, and I believed it would be enough to keep him from taking reckless action.

Nevertheless, as I watched him drive away, I felt an inexplicable poignancy, as if I was never going to see him again. I told myself it must be a biproduct of all the guilt I still felt.

Earlier, Aizawa had questioned me interminably about why and when Matsuda had told me the truth about Light being Kira, and I'd satisfied him with the explanation that Matsuda had been drunk and upset and had just blurted it out. It was, more or less, the truth.

And then he'd said, _"Sorry, Yoko, it's not that I don't trust you… It's just that somebody's screwing with us, and I'd like to know who."_

Whoever they might be, I dreaded the idea that they could be involved with the solo mission I'd been given.

As I drove, I thought about Mogi again. I wouldn't say we were close exactly, but we made a good team, and I cared about him. He'd told me of his intentions to leave the NPA once this case was closed. Now he might not be able to.

No matter how I tried, I couldn't get the image of him lying in a pool of his own blood out of my mind. Mountainous Mogi, reduced to little more than a corpse.

If any of that turned out to somehow be my responsibility, I didn't think I could live with it.

I followed my GPS to a rundown area of Roppongi where the crowds were sparse, and the people looked untrustworthy. The dilapidated building seemed as though it might have been stately, once, if not gaudy, built in a western style, painted red, with several wrought iron balconies overlooking the street. Now it was a relic from an era gone by.

According to Toyoshi's staff, he'd bought it not all that long ago with hopes of restoring it to its former glory. The masked demon who'd tortured Chiba certainly had a flair for dramatics, and, if nothing else, it could make a good hideout.

When I climbed the steps though, I found the doors boarded up with a long chain draped across them. Up close, the walls were rotting, and the paint was chipped. Even the sidewalk around the building looked ill-managed, patterned with cracks and potholes. Several men loitered at the corner, smoking. I watched them a moment, thinking they might be some of Toyoshi's men, but they seemed to be common drifters.

A sign had been posted, proclaiming that the property was condemned.

"Damn." I jiggled the shiny, new padlock, and then I went to the nearest window, only to find it coated in a layer of grime. I wiped at it with my sleeve.

Inside, I made out a few rows of seats and the vague shape of curtains draped around the walls; the rest of the furniture was covered in white sheets.

With a long sigh, I leaned against the wall. "Another dead end."

That could mean a whole day more without making an arrest.

I got out my phone to check in with Aizawa.

When he answered, he sounded calmer, but no less distant. "Yeah, Yoko. Everything okay?"

"I'm all right, but my lead isn't too hot." I watched a group of school boys stream by, bouncing a ball amongst them. Everything was peaceful, but I felt like a sitting duck standing up on the steps of the theater, so I made my way back down to the cruiser. "This place is abandoned. It might even be torn down soon."

"Dammit," he muttered. "My lead doesn't look promising either."

Listening to the sounds of traffic in the background behind him, I casually offered, "If you want, I can go file for the warrant. That way, when you're done, you can get right back to the hospital."

He hesitated, and I knew his emotions must be conflicting with his sense of duty. "That would be helpful."

"It's a lot more important for you to be with Ide and Mogi than it is for me."

"Okay," he agreed. "You be careful though."

Trying to bury my guilt, I smiled. "See you later, Aizawa."

On my way to the station, I found myself anxious, checking constantly in the mirror and chewing the inside of my cheek, mind distracted by the urge to justify my actions by saying I was helping Aizawa. In truth though, I had personal business with the commissioner, and the further I drove, the more scandalous I felt, unworthy of even associating with the officers who'd helped bring the Kira case to an end.

The station was emptier than ever, every willing officer left was out on the streets, trying to watch each others' backs. It was normal, wasn't it, to develop a close bond with your partner?

Mogi and I probably could have been partners, I told myself, if the Kira case hadn't come along.

Now, even if he wasn't planning to leave the NPA, it was possible Mogi wouldn't be fit to go back to regular police work.

It took some time to file for the warrant, and I tried to ease my conscience by reminding myself that I was already saving Aizawa a lot of time and hassle.

After that, I headed nonchalantly up to the commissioner's office.

Detective Miya, his aid, smiled at me. She was a young woman, and I'd heard two things about her: one being that she was really good at what she did and had earned her position based on merit. Two being that she was completely incompetent, hired strictly for her looks. Though I hadn't spent enough time in her presence to form my own opinion, I had been in to see the commissioner enough that she had no qualms inviting me to go and wait in his office until he'd returned from what she called a short break. Trying to appear casual, I shut the door behind me.

Around me, everything looked bright and shiny, as always, done all in polished cherry wood and brass, the massive desk pristine, the view of Shibuya spectacular. Oshima had done well for himself since the former director had been slain by Kira. It had been troubling me since the beginning to put any faith in a man who'd gained power through death.

But, I told myself, again, that didn't mean anything. Oshima happened to be in the right place at the right time.

 _Just like Akki Toyoshi…_

Heart beat quickening, I slunk across to his desk. My guilt and dread had grown so potent, I'd risk nearly anything to assuage them.

Quickly, I scanned his paperwork for any obvious red flags, but in a moment, I found myself rummaging, as carefully as possible, glancing up every few seconds to make sure Oshima hadn't returned yet. No matter how hard I'd tried to tell myself it was merely a coincidence, I couldn't shake my skepticism about this situation.

I'd gotten a sinking feeling in my stomach when Aizawa had told me Hiro Miyami was dead, but I'd been able to ignore that. Only after I'd learned that Miyami had attempted to kill Matsuda less than twelve hours after I'd reported the fact that Matsuda had shot Light had I begun to really worry.

After all, up until that point, none of the Reaper's men had known which of the task force they were after. Miyami must have received a definitive order from someone. I'd seen first hand how tight-lipped the former task force could be when it came to anything pertaining to Kira. I'd leaked that info myself.

Shamefully, I remembered the way Matsuda had whispered, _Light was Kira_ , and how long I'd studied him, disbelieving what he'd said. I remembered the warmth of his lips and the taste of beer as I'd bent down to kiss him, strangely sorry for getting that out of him, even after I'd tried so hard.

In a matter of moments, my search for answers became frantic, and I lost sight of the door, lost sight of the fact that Miya sat just on the other side of it and of the fact that Oshima was due back at any moment.

Luckily, I didn't have to search very hard.

All the information I'd given Oshima had been stored in one of his desk drawers. Of course, I hadn't been reckless enough to say anything about the notebook and the shinigami, but the fact that Light was Kira, Misa Amane was the second Kira, and the fact that Touta Matsuda shot Kira, was all there in a hand-written file. Along with all that, there was a photograph from Amane's suicide, depicting the message she'd scrawled in her own blood. I could think of no reason for Oshima to make a physical record of any of it, unless he intended to distribute it.

I studied the picture of the message a long moment. Mogi had taken it. He'd sent it to me. Aizawa warned us not to share it with anyone, but I had shown it to the commissioner. At the time, his interest hadn't meant much to me. He was the commissioner after all.

 _What the hell does it have to do with anything anyway?_

I picked the report up to get a better look, and a few loose sheets of paper fell to the floor.

Cursing, I hurried to grab them up, but paused, blood turning to slush. One of them had a photograph attached to it, an old mug shot of the man Aizawa had just killed in Toyoshi's office.

 _Anubis._

Along with it was a phone number, written in the commissioner's own handwriting. _Akki Toyoshi._

My breath hitched. As I picked up the paper, my fingers were trembling.

"Sergeant Yoko?"

I turned to find Commissioner Oshima standing in the doorway, looking confused and frowning. "Sorry to startle you," he said, but his eyes were fixed on the paper in my hand. "I assume you're here for your pay."

Feeling cold, I stood up slowly, barely able to raise my voice. "You…"

His eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Or maybe you came here because you have more information about Kira."

"What did you do?" I demanded, taking a step toward him.

"Do? What are you talking about?" His eyebrows lifted in confusion.

"This!" I waved the report in his face. "What is it for? What did you have me gathering that information _for_ , Oshima?"

He hesitated and then shrugged. "I told you, Sergeant. We've been hired to find as much information on Kira as possible."

"By whom? Who have I been working for?"

Sighing, the commissioner combed back his thinning hair. "Yoko, you're an intelligent young woman, and I know you understand that some things have to be done. For justice."

"Justice?" I was starting to shake. "What kind of justice? Helping Toyoshi kill off Matsuda? _That_ kind of justice?"

Jowls quivering, his expression turned all the graver. "I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Don't lie to me!" I slammed him back against the door, and he gave a surprised gasp. "You're an NPA commissioner! You're not supposed to be selling information about your detectives to someone they're trying to arrest!"

"I warned you this mission could compromise some of your ethics. You agreed that would be okay."

"Because I thought it was an important assignment! I thought it was about learning more about Kira! I had no idea I was gathering information to helpkill the men involved in the task force!"

He was silent a long time, and I really wanted him to deny it and explain that I was wrong, to tell me I was jumping to conclusions. Instead, Oshima sighed. "I'm sorry. You weren't supposed to find out."

"I wasn't supposed to _find out_?" I shrieked. "I was supposed to inadvertently kill my fellow officers and never know about it? How dare you!" I shoved him tighter against the glass, wishing I could just crush his throat. "I had no idea I was helping that monster!"

He laughed, but it was a strained sound, like he could hardly breathe beneath my grip. "How did you think he found out that Matsuda killed Kira?"

The words had me staggering back. "You unbelievable bastard… You called him just as soon as I told you!"

From the other side of the door, Detective Miya called out, in a muffled voice. "Commissioner? Is everything all right?"

Oshima stared me down, rubbing his neck. "Yes, everything is fine." And then he held a finger to his lips, indicating for me to keep it down.

"You bastard," I spat.

"Please," he snorted. "Don't act so pious. This is all for the best, Yoko."

It took every bit of my willpower not to punch him in the face. "Everything those men have been through," I grated out, "and now they might die because of me…"

"You're missing a fundamental aspect of the Kira case," Oshima told me coldly. "Those four men aren't the ones who caught Kira—L is—they're nothing. And if it's true that Light Yagami was Kira, they were little more than his pawns all along."

I turned on him, shouting, "So help Toyoshi kill L!"

"Ah, but L isn't the one who killed Kira. Matsuda did. He confessed."

"Kira was a murderer! Matsuda doesn't deserve to die—none of them do!"

Commissioner Oshima raised his arms in an apathetic shrug. "That depends on your point of view, wouldn't you agree? Kira was justice. Look what's happened in his absence."

"You're sick! What about the other NPA officers who have been killed? That's our fault too!"

Nothing changed in his unfeeling expression.

I clenched a trembling fist and drew a deep breath. "I'm going to tell Aizawa about all this, and the director too. I'll tell the prime minister himself if I have to, but you're not going to get away with this!"

"I wouldn't recommend that, Yoko. You'll have to be arrested as well."

"I don't care. I deserve that!"

"Come now, my dear," he said in a condescending tone. "Don't be naïve. I'm the commissioner. Aizawa and the others are nobodies. That's why they're being allowed to run this case in the first place."

"You've set them up to fail!" All of it looked painfully clear now. He hadn't lifted a finger to help us with our investigation. He wanted Matsuda and the other three to be killed.

"A new NPA is about to be formed, made up of men Kira himself judges as decent, and there won't be any place in the NPA for those traitors."

"You can't actually believe Kira is coming back!"

Sadly, he shook his head. "It sounds like you're not interested in being on the winning side, Yoko. A shame. I had high hopes for you."

"We'll see who's on the winning side when I take this report to Director Boko and tell him what happened." I waved the file under his nose. "Unless he's a Kira fanatic too, there's just no way he'll look the other way."

Once again, he simply shrugged. "No, Boko is a hard-headed man, no friend of Kira's. Not that it matters. He won't take the word of a warrant officer over that of the commissioner himself." He sighed. "My dear, you may just have to take the fall for what you've done."

I didn't know Boko. Going to him would require admitting to what I'd done, and I had no hard evidence to prove that Oshima was working with the Reaper. In a case of his word against mine, I'd be done for.

"I can't believe you," I hissed. "Don't you have any moral fiber?"

"Belief is a funny thing, isn't it?" He pushed past me to sit down at his desk. " _You_ don't believe me, but plenty of people will. I would consider your next move carefully, Sergeant." He steepled his fingers, flashing me another cold smile. "You've gotten yourself into a difficult position. After all, those nobodies you've come to respect so deeply won't want you anywhere near them when they learn what a traitor you are."

"Listen to you," I choked, fighting back tears. "Everyone's a traitor but you, am I right?" My hatred boiled when I thought of the men who were dead, and Ide and Mogi, and Aizawa and Matsuda fighting over the body of their dying comrade. It was too much. These last few weeks had been hell, and the Reaper had accomplished it all thanks to me and Oshima.

"You're going to pay for what you've done…" I told him, barely above a whisper.

Oshima laughed. "I'll tell you what—call Aizawa right now and tell him what you've discovered. Go ahead. We all know the head detective on the Reaper case is wound tight enough to snap, and there's no telling what he'll do."

"That's true," I muttered, making my way for the door. I felt so dizzy I could hardly put one foot in front of the other. "When Aizawa finds out what we've done together, how we've endangered Matsuda and the others…he'll probably storm in here and try to kill you himself."

"There are still plenty of men around here who want to see Aizawa and his team dead. What do you think they'll do when they see him attack the commissioner?"

If something happened to Aizawa, I knew better than to think anyone would step up to take over his case—Matsuda would get killed trying to finish it—and then, regardless of whether Kira came back or not, the Shinigami gang, with the help of the commissioner, would take control of Tokyo.

"You're right. I can't let that happen."

Derisively, he grinned. "So what do you propose to do?"

Still fighting tears, I drew down on him.

Oshima studied the gun, unconcerned. "Really, now."

"Get up." I racked back. "If you value your life."

"You've lost your mind. My detail will gun you down—"

"Your detail is about to have a hostage situation on their hands. Now get up. We're taking a walk."


	24. Chapter 24

**Aizawa**

* * *

Cursing under my breath, I checked my watch again, but time wouldn't stop, it only ever ticked, minute by minute, that much closer to eight pm, and I hadn't heard from Yoko in more than three hours.

"Maybe something happened to her," Matsuda suggested, from his seat down the hall, but in an uncommonly subdued voice.

What a devastating thought. In no uncertain terms, Yoko had told me she couldn't finish this investigation without me; I hadn't thought about it that way, but I knew I would have a hard time solving the case without her now that everyone else was out of action. I might not be able to at all.

"We'd hear about it," I replied, brusquely, not nearly as confident as I sounded.

For the fourth time, I tried calling her. She didn't answer, and I'd already left three voicemails.

"Dammit."

"Maybe we should do something," he suggested, quieter still. Obviously, he knew I was agitated, and he must be nearly as sick of fighting with me as I was with him, because he'd hardly said a word since I'd come back to the hospital.

"What _can_ we do?" I demanded, facing him at last.

Matsuda shrugged, staring down the hall. "I mean, maybe we should look for her."

"I'm trying to solve a black arms case. I shouldn't have to keep scouring the city for my own subordinates!" I nearly threw my phone down out as I hung up.

Matsuda's face pinkened with a hint of outrage, and his voice took on a flavor of annoyance. "She's probably at the station."

"I called the station. Nobody answered."

For the first time in well over an hour, Matsuda looked up at me, mouth cocked in a questioning frown. "What's with that?"

I shook my head and resumed pacing. I didn't like to think of what it could mean. Possibly, we were fresh out of allies and nobody wanted to take my call, or, possibly, the station had been deserted altogether. Neither scenario would surprise me.

Splitting up had turned out to be worse than a bad idea, it had turned out to be an utter waste of time. Not only had my nightclub been nothing more than a broken down, vacant building, and Yoko's theater condemned, to be torn down, I'd lost her. Maybe someone had nabbed her, the way they had Chiba, or, maybe, when she'd seen that we had nothing to go off of she'd simply bailed. I didn't know where to begin with locating her—I didn't have time to look for her at all—ignoring her absence seemed not only heartless, but impossible. The nap I'd taken earlier hadn't been long enough, and now panic slowly crept back into me, along with fatigue.

More than anything else, though, I felt torn between trying to wrap up the case alone, which would likely get me killed, and pushing Matsuda to his physical and emotional limits, which would likely get him killed. I couldn't decide which outcome sounded more horrible.

For one thing, I had a family who needed me to come back, kids I wanted to watch grow up, and the image of them going through life without me, graduating school, getting married, having children of their own, prompted me to believe I shouldn't have to go getting myself killed. Matsuda didn't have anyone waiting for him.

Not that it mattered. Getting him killed would destroy me.

"How's your head?" I asked suddenly.

Unconvincingly, he mumbled, "Fine."

"Well, does it hurt?"

"Not very much. I mean, not anymore."

"Are you lying to me?"

"I said I'm fine."

"I'm just letting you know, if Yoko never comes back—"

"Why wouldn't she come back?" He frowned, and his tone bordered close to scolding. "We don't have any reason to think that."

"It's completely possible."

He rolled his eyes. "So, what about Ide and Kei? If we wait until tomorrow, maybe one of them will be okay to help us."

There was his sunny optimism, shining through no matter how circumstances worsened. It must be nice, I thought, to think that way, to always believe things would turn out okay, and I barely had the heart to give him the truth.

Last I knew, Ide was still weak and pale, doped up and deliriously singing to himself, fading in and out of consciousness.

Kei would probably be discharged tomorrow, but she was injured and rattled. She wouldn't have the same self-destructive determination to keep working that Matsuda had.

For all I knew, Mogi wouldn't survive the night…

"I seriously doubt it," I grumbled at last.

"Are you just being a pessimist?" he demanded, with another sliver of irritation. "Yoko's never coming back, everybody else is done, and we're screwed?"

Reluctantly, I paused to take a long look at him. The words reminded me of how Ide had always scolded me for my pessimism, and I wished that meant Matsuda had some grit comparable to my partner's, but to look at him, there was no sign of it. Ever since Mogi was shot, he seemed more and more to be on the verge of fading away.

Even if I pushed him, even if Yoko returned, we were only three people, standing now between Tokyo and anarchy. Higher ups and the government had no intention of helping. We were on our own.

Hard to believe just two weeks ago I'd thought this case was something small and simple: a maniac with a gun, a random uprising from Kira supporters, almost inevitable. I had honestly thought we could squelch the whole thing in a timely manner, but now, even if we solved the case, I didn't know if things would ever go back to normal at the NPA.

Yes, this case had turned out to be a bloodbath, a nightmare I couldn't get out of, and I wished I could leave it, but this was my ship to go down with, and maybe the only decent thing to do before I died was to talk Matsuda into saving himself.

Pessimism again. Even if I gave my life to protect him, they'd kill him after I was gone.

Matsuda broke in suddenly to my thoughts. " _Aizawa."_ Pulling nervously on the drawstrings of his hoodie, he stared at me a long time before asking, "Are you okay?"

My current composure was just a thin layer of pretense, bound tear at any second, but I nodded, and then, not sure what else to do, I dropped into the chair next to his.

We sat a long time. The hospital stayed dead silent, with just a nurse or two picking their way around, and I felt like the whole world had stopped, waiting and watching to see if I would succeed or fail, intending to live according to the outcome of my investigation. If I failed, the people would see that they didn't have to obey the law or respect the police. Even without the real Kira alive to judge them, they'd join the rank and file of the Reaper's syndicate, treating him like Kira's spokesperson, the way they had Takada.

 _So much rides on this, and I don't even feel fit to leave this chair._

Matsuda murmured, "Can I ask you something?"

"Just as long as it's not stupid, Matsuda."

"Before Anubis…shot Mogi…" He drew a harsh breath, eyes darkening at the memory. "He was trying to hand me over to him… He said he didn't want to die because of me."

Blood turning icy, I faced him, and the hopeless look on his face intensified the cold inside me. "Mogi said that?"

Matsuda set his jaw and jerked his head.

That wasn't the brave, unshakeable Mogi I'd known for the last fifteen years. "He didn't mean it, I'm sure."

"I think he was just trying to buy some time. But…" He frowned down at his shoes, exhausted and miserable, and I realized he'd been sitting here, all day, dwelling on what Mogi had done.

"You didn't actually think Mogi betrayed you, did you?"

"Everything happened really fast." Lightly, he tugged the string of his hoodie. "But I can't even ask him what he was thinking." He paused, and then whispered, "Maybe I'll never be able to."

My heart shuddered.

Matsuda had been showing signs of distrusting us for a while, but that was normal after everything that had happened. He must know better.

"You don't need to ask him. You know the truth."

Again, he drew a deep breath. "I just wonder… Whoever told the Reaper I'm the one who shot Kira, they had to be a viable source. Someone he'd believe. Somebody who saw me do that."

"Matsuda." I rubbed the bridge of my nose and checked my watch again. Eight o'clock had come now and begun to tick away. "Don't do this to yourself."

He spread his hands. "I told Yoko myself—I've got no right to accuse anyone—but I can't help wondering." He met my gaze, worried and desperate.

When I'd just been considering the reality of having to die to protect him, I couldn't help but feel angry that he'd think, even for a split second, that any of us might not be on his side.

"Hey." I turned to him. "None of us would do that to you."

"The stakes are really high."

"I know about the stakes. You're one of them."

His face flushed as he looked away.

Trying to sound gentler, I added, "None of us want to see you end up like Chiba."

Practically whispering, he asked, "Are you totally sure, Ai?"

"How can you ask me that?" My stomach curdled as my mind tried to go back to the video Reaper had shown us of Chiba's last moments, and my imagination attempted to insert Matsuda, strapped down, tongue torn out. "How the fuck…can you ask me that?"

"I don't know," he mumbled, in his insecure way. "I mean, I guess it sounds crazy, but…I know if you had to choose between dying, or winding up like Chiba yourself, and putting me in that situation—"

"Stop it," I snapped.

"That's just normal, Ai."

"That's what you think of me? You think I'm a coward?"

"I know you're not a coward. But you're not an idiot either. You're a winner, and winners don't die the way Chiba did."

Automatically, I chomped my tongue, and my chest tightened, and I hated every implication in those simple words. "You're not a coward, an idiot, or a loser either, Matsuda."

Skeptically, he glanced up at me.

"Okay, you're kind of an idiot…" I allowed, and then sank back in my chair to ponder the overwhelming despair of it all. Matsuda had always looked up to me and believed me. Today, the fact that he could hardly meet my gaze indicated more than just a short lapse in complete trust; it seemed like he'd started down a cynical path where he felt as if he couldn't put full faith in anyone, and I couldn't stand to see him wind up like that.

Dozens of the cops I'd known over the course of my life had turned out cynical and jaded, just like Ide and I, and I'd always told myself that was simply a part of the job, that a simple man had no real chance of standing up underneath the constant struggle of keeping the dark side of humanity in check.

Matsuda, though, had always been such a bright and hopeful figure in my life, and for so long it had seemed like nothing could possibly get him down. Maybe I'd come to rely on that to substitute for my own lack of peace. Or maybe I just couldn't handle the idea that he'd gotten hurt that badly.

I didn't know if I could prevent more damage, but, if nothing else, he couldn't leave this hallway doubting my loyalty to him, because that was just the last weak link in our chain the Reaper needed to tear us apart and destroy him.

"Hey. Kiddo." I clutched his shoulder.

"Kiddo," he echoed under his breath, and studied his shoes all the more intently.

"What have I done to make you feel like you can't trust me?"

"Nothing." He shook his head, unconvincingly. "I do trust you."

But Matsuda wasn't a liar, and if he could say that, I knew he must at least want to trust me, and if I said the right thing, I could drive the doubts from his head here and now.

"I would never betray you," I assured him, quietly.

He glanced up at me through his lank bangs, measuring my expression.

"Neither would Ide or Mogi. I know that for a fact, and I don't want you to worry any more about it. Okay?"

Slowly, he nodded.

"Don't worry about it," I repeated, and slammed him lightly on the shoulder.

"I'll try," he husked.

It wasn't good enough, and I wanted to push and push and push until he really believed me, but I knew better than to believe my pushiness could make him turn around and magically transform back into the old Matsuda from a few years ago, who'd always believed me, wholeheartedly, no matter what I said. Instead, I found myself wondering where his loss of trust in us had started, but it must have been the day Light died.

That little prick seemed determined to destroy my life, even from beyond the grave.

Mogi must have had an angle when he offered to hand Matsuda over. He'd gotten shot, and the pistol lying near his body had discharged several rounds—Mogi had gone out fighting to protect himself and Matsuda.

Even so, my consolations felt hollow to me when I felt like, in some way, I'd betrayed him already, and I knew I had to back my words up with actions to clearly define my genuine concern for him.

"You should get out of this," I told him, when a little more time had passed. "Leave town."

Expression mottled by confusion, he jerked, blinked, and sat up to look at me. "Run?"

"Everything is fucked," I told him, slowly. "And I know it's my fault."

Matsuda gaped at me, eyes popping. I'd never spoken that way to him before, somberly taking all the blame, and I knew it.

"Somebody else should have been in charge of this investigation," I admitted. "Maybe, then, some of this wouldn't have happened."

Having Captain Okoshi, with all his wisdom and support, on my side, had been such a short-lived relief to me, and looking back now on the way I'd relied on him, it left no doubt in my mind that I must not have enough experience of my own to successfully run an investigation on a case this complicated and critical.

"Like who?" he wanted to know, and an uncommonly sharp edge lined his voice.

Surprised, I looked back at him again, and his eyes reflected that same stern logic.

"Everyone else panicked that day," he went on, breathlessly, like wading back through the memories of this case was physically painful to him. "Even the commissioner ran away, scared of Kira. You were the only one who had the presence of mind to do anything."

Even fiercer than before, he met my gaze again. "That takes something not just everyone has."

"I didn't ask any of you to follow me, though," I reminded him.

"That's what I'm saying, though. Do you think everyone would have followed me? Or Ide? Or even Mogi? Even if they didn't hang in for very long, for a moment, the whole squad was behind you."

When I thought about that day, all I remembered was how irritated I'd been by the riot that erupted, how disgusted I'd been with Oshima for vanishing, and how sincerely I'd wanted to try and get to the scene of the shooting before the evidence could be tampered with. It hadn't occurred to me that whole squad had stopped cold in their panic to follow me into the conference room.

Matsuda waited a long time for me to answer, and then he announced, a little irritably, "That's why Soichiro recommended you to be chief, you know."

Again, I whipped around to stare at him. "Soichiro?"

"Yeah. Duh. Who did you think did that?"

"I didn't think about that," I admitted. I'd been plagued by the possibilities—good and bad—and I'd agonized over my own desires, but I'd barely put a thought toward whose recommendation my promotion might have been.

Matsuda rolled his eyes. "Remember when you told me that how well I did on the Kira case would dictate what kinds of recommendations you'd give me when we finally all went back to the NPA?"

"Vaguely."

"Why didn't you think about that for yourself?"

Simply, I'd been entrenched in work, wearing blinders as I sorted through reports, wrote new ones, spent one sleepless night after another, watching the news, analyzing everything I heard or saw for some significant, new data. I'd been absorbed with aiding the Deputy Director, managing subordinates, and struggling to keep up with L, on top of straining to keep my marriage off the rocks, constantly. "I was busy," I muttered, finally.

"Yeah, well, you did a lot, and Deputy Director Yagami was watching you. He told Director Boko that you're smart, and tough, when you talk, people listen, and when you give an order, people follow it. You never let go, and, eventually, you always get what you're after."

My jaw threatened to fall open, and I couldn't remember him ever talking to me this way before, either, charged with confidence, matter-of-fact, seemingly annoyed that I'd overlooked something screamingly obvious to him. "How do you know all that?"

"I was with him when he met Boko." Some of the light fled his eyes again. "You know. One of the perks of following the boss around like an idiot."

"And they discussed all that in front of you?"

"Not really. Boko told him there was probably going to be an opening for chief in our squad and wanted to know if he had a recommendation. Deputy Director Yagami said Shuichi Aizawa, like he didn't even have to think about it." He gave a little laugh. "Actually, the way he said it, I thought he'd probably been waiting twenty years to say it." Sadly, he looked at me, and his voice lowered, "He wanted you to be our chief, Ai."

"I had no idea," I murmured, and then I thought I felt the last of my heart starting to break. After knowing Soichiro Yagami for so long, as boss and mentor, I hadn't guessed he'd had that in mind for me. Maybe I'd just never wanted to picture a time in life where he wouldn't be my chief. I certainly had never wanted to picture life without him completely. Filling his shoes sounded impossible.

"And I do trust you," Matsuda went on, fiercely again. "I voted for you to be in charge of this sucky investigation just like everyone else did. That's why you can't ask me to get off it or convince me to leave town, even if it would save my life. You can tell everyone I'm insubordinate, and stupid, and stubborn, but I'm not going to leave you to die."

Biting back a wince, I turned away to stare out at the twilit sky, and several minutes passed before I felt like I could speak without breaking down. "Just promise me something, Matsu."

"Anything for you, Captain," he reminded me, dully.

A slight smile tugged at my mouth, sadly, though, and it was unbelievably difficult to choke out the words in any calm tone of voice. "If something happens to me…and you have to face him alone, just promise me you'll kill him."

He shifted around to look at me, mouth falling open.

"I know you're not a killer, but you are a good shot. And he's not going to be merciful, so you can't be either."

I watched the emotions pass through his face—disbelief, first, followed by fear, and then anxiety, and finally, acceptance. "All right," he husked.

"I'm serious, Matsuda."

"I know. Don't worry."

"Blow his fucking head off."

To that, he just nodded, very slowly, not breaking eye contact with me, even to blink, and I doubted I'd ever seen him looking so grave.

"And…" I went on, even though I knew the next words out of my mouth would be the hardest to say yet. "And if I die—"

"You're not going to die, Aizawa," he cut in forcefully. "Stop talking like that."

"Shut up and listen to me."

"No." He got to his feet. "I don't want to. I don't want to hear any of this. I don't want to hear you admit that you think you're about to die!"

"I might be though, and you know it. I need you to look after my family."

His eyes were wider than ever as he whipped around again, full of fear. "Ide can do it. Don't your kids call him Uncle Hideki anyway?" He thought a moment. "Unless you think Ide's going to die also. And Mogi." His skin paled with horror. "Is that what you think?"

"Look, I don't know, Matsuda. This bastard said he'd kill us to get to you, and he'll _have_ to."

"No!" he snarled suddenly, taking a step back toward me, like he was going to tear me out of my seat. "We know who this guy is! We just have to find him!"

I sighed. There was obviously no making him see it my way—he didn't want to—and I couldn't blame him. "Right."

Still Matsuda stood there, looking furious, practically spitting, "I'd never let this asshole kill any of you to get to me!"

After what had already happened to the others, he must be aware of his powerlessness in the situation, but I didn't dare mention that.

While I was struggling to think of something positive I could say to him, my phone went off, and I checked the number. It was a text from Yoko.

 _I have something important to tell u. Meet me below, in the parking lot, and plz come alone._

For several moments, I stared at the message, wondering at it, and then, slowly, I passed Matsuda to look out the window. Far below us, a woman stood alone under a streetlight, and even though it did look like her, the sight made me suspicious. I couldn't think of any reason for her to ask me to meet her, alone, in the parking lot, but the cop side of me warned that it could be a trap, a ploy designed to separate Matsuda and I.

Or it could be that taking him along would put him at risk.

There was no rule that said he couldn't get hurt just because he was inside the hospital. He might be safer if he was with me, and I knew I'd be safer if I stayed with him. At this point, it seemed paramount that we stay together.

My phone went off again.

 _Not a trap—I promise. Plz don't bring Matsu._

"Fuck," I muttered under my breath. She was on our side after all...

"I'm gonna go grab some coffee," I announced at last.

Matsuda had been staring at me for the last few moments. "Good," he said immediately, "I need to get out of this hallway for a while."

"No." I didn't dare sound too insistent, or he'd get suspicious. "You stay here."

That indignant, offended look he'd been wearing a lot lately came over his face, and he dropped back into his chair. "Okay, I'm getting a little sick of hearing stuff like that."

"It's just because of Mogi," I told him apologetically.

"I've been here with Mogi all day. It hasn't done much good."

"C'mon." I went for a more pleading tone. "C'mon, Matsu, don't get mad about it. Somebody has to stay here with Mogi."

He cocked his head, like my tone really puzzled him, and I could see how skeptical he felt, but finally he just waved some money at me. "Get me a cappuccino, please."

"Sure." I stuffed the bill in my pocket, trying to smile, and then hurried to walk away before he changed his mind.

His voice echoed after me. "Be back in ten minutes, or I'm coming to find you!"

"Make it fifteen."

" _Ten_ , Aizawa. You don't have a good track record with these vending machine trips."

"All right, ten," I agreed, and stepped onto the elevator.

While I was there, I made sure my gun was ready. Obviously, Matsuda was more perceptive than I gave him credit for—he must have noticed I was leaving right after receiving a text message, and I still couldn't get over everything he'd said about Soichiro, not only that he'd know why the deputy director had recommended me, but the insights he'd had on my personality that he thought would make me a good chief. He was much better at reading people than I'd ever recognized before.

 _I don't want to let him down._

In the middle of a crisis like this one, that should be the least of my concerns, or, at least, it should take a back seat to keeping him alive, but if I was really honest with myself, I realized that Matsuda's admiration was important to me, and I would hate to lose his respect as much as I'd hate to lose his trust.

Just now, I couldn't afford to let feelings get in my way, and as I crossed the parking lot, I kept both eyes open for danger.

As I walked across the parking lot, I kept both eyes open for danger.

Yoko waited straight ahead of me, standing perfectly still, body silhouetted in the light behind her. I saw no sign of a trap, but I hesitated to glance back at the hospital, wondering if Matsuda was watching us out the window. Unless he really was completely dense and actually thought I was going to get coffee.

 _Hard to tell with him._

When I stood within a few paces of her, I called, "What's going on?"

"Aizawa…" Her voice sounded unusually quiet and pained.

I checked her over for any sign of injury. "Are you all right?"

She shook her head. Her face in the shadows looked gaunt, eyes like empty sockets, but I saw no sign that she might be injured. Nevertheless, she kept her head down, gaze averted, and a permanent wince tugged at her lips.

"What's wrong?" I asked softly.

"I… Something happened today…when I was at the station. I filed for the warrant. That's all taken care of."

"I appreciate that." I sighed. "You had us worried, though. What happened?"

A long pause stretched between us, and when she spoke again her voice was surprisingly emotionless. "Commissioner Oshima is dead."

"W-wait... What?" I stammered. "How? Did the Reaper get him?"

"No." Her voice turned hard. " _I_ killed him."

Stomach knotting up, I stared at her. "You…? You're kidding me, right?"

"I would never joke about taking a man's life."

"Well, what did you kill him for?" I demanded, laying a hand on my gun.

Shuddering, Yoko turned away, her features blacked out by shadows. "He betrayed us."

That word sat in my guts like a rock. I swallowed hard. "What are you talking about?"

"Oh, God!" Yoko covered her face suddenly, crying, "Oh, God! I'm so, so sorry! I wish I could fix it!" I smelled alcohol on her breath, and I got the feeling she'd snapped.

"Hey, hey." I drifted closer to lay a hand on her arm.

She jerked away. "Don't touch me. You don't realize. Oh, my god, you have no idea!"

The potency of her panic felt contagious, and I started reeling again. Seeing her alive was such a relief, to know there were still three of us had given me hope for a moment, and yet it looked like something must have gone horribly wrong. If she'd honestly killed the commissioner, I'd have to arrest her. Not sure what else to do, I stood there, stupidly, waiting for an explanation.

Yoko drew a shallow breath, dried her cheeks with her fingers, and began in a strangled voice. "About a month ago, Oshima asked me to take on a special case for him. He promised it would pay well, and I agreed before I actually knew what I was getting into."

Great. If she'd gotten involved in some personal matter of Oshima's which had led her to kill him, I would have to arrest her, and then I'd be back to trying to decide how to proceed alone.

"He was vague about it, but he told me that a man—someone powerful, like a politician—had requested information concerning the Kira case."

My heart froze again for a second. "Who?"

She shook her head. "Director Boko told him no, so he went to Commissioner Oshima personally, because they were old friends. Oshima told me it had to stay a secret. He said it could be construed as illegal if we got caught, but only because Boko had already made a decision. I needed the money, though, and Oshima made it sound like it would be a good thing. Honorable. He said we were bringing the truth to light. He said you and the others didn't deserve to keep all these secrets—everyone deserves to know what happened to Kira."

Regardless of the trouble it would have caused Light's remaining family and the four of us, I had agreed that the world deserved to know the tragic way our case had ended. Near had been the one to tell me, explicitly, to use discretion, but eventually I'd come to the conclusion that the information we had was nothing but a curse.

But it was just as Ide had said on the final day of my debriefing—they wouldn't be satisfied until they found out what they wanted to know.

"What did he hire you to do exactly?" I asked at last.

"Of course, he already had access to the official file, but he said that compilation was incomplete. It was mostly things L had discovered, and there wasn't much information about what happened after Deputy Director Yagami died."

"Protocol fell to the wayside."

She nodded. "That's understandable. Oshima wanted me to find out as much as I could about the things the task force did after the deputy director was killed. Specifically, he said, we needed to find out what happened to Kira—who Kira was, who killed him, how, why, and all the other details of January 28th—he said I wouldn't get paid until those particular details had been uncovered."

Tightness seized my chest again, more brutally than ever. "Wait…so…you were investigating us?"

With a deep sigh, Yoko stumbled several paces into the shadows beyond her halo of light, and then stood very still again. "Oshima flattered me—he said I was one of the best the NPA had to offer—he said I'd have a lot of money when it was over. But I never…" She lowered her head, whispering, "meant to hurt any of you."

I couldn't answer. I was afraid of where this was going.

"I started eavesdropping on your conversations, asking seemingly harmless questions, looking into your guys' private information… The day Matsuda brought the envelope from the carjacker, I stood outside the door of the conference room and listened to everything you said at your secret meeting."

My face fell into a scowl. "You did _?"_

"I found out Light Yagami was Kira, and I found out Matsuda shot him; it wasn't enough though—I had to know the rest of the story. So, I started trying to get it out of Matsuda. When I was supposed to go look for him around Yama's, I found him…"

"You found him and didn't tell me?" I snapped. "Wasn't that the day before Miyami tried to murder him?" Feeling sick, I remembered the deep, red k carved into his arm, and all the horrifying images that went with how that must have happened.

"It gets worse," she whispered. "I took him to a bar and got him drunk, purposely trying to get him to disclose the details of January 28th. All I could really get from him was confirmation that he'd shot Light—he believes he killed Light—but…as it turns out…that was all I ever needed."

I felt myself starting to shake with anger, and I had to bite back all the vicious things I wanted to say to her.

"As you said, Miyami tried to kill him the day after that. I looked the other way and told myself it as a coincidence, but I knew it wasn't."

At those words, my blood ran cold. "What are you telling me, Yoko? What the fuck _is_ all this?"

"Today," she sobbed. "I went to the station to get my pay from Oshima. He wasn't there, so I searched his desk, and I… I found proof." Her voice shattered into hysteria. "I found proof that he was working for Akki Toyoshi! When I confronted him, he confirmed it!"

Insides burning with rage, I watched the agony play across her shaded face, and as she broke down into sobs, I didn't feel sorry for her at all.

"Aizawa!" she cried, and suddenly reached out to me. "I've been working for the Reaper this _whole_ time! Gathering intel for him! He found out Matsuda killed Kira through _me_! I-I never told anyone about the notebook because I thought it was too dangerous; Oshima and Toyoshi both believed Matsuda killed Kira!"

I clenched my fists, wanting to spring across the distance between us and smash her face in.

She shambled toward me. "Believe me, Aizawa, believe me! I never meant to hurt any of you! I didn't understand what I was doing! I didn't know the man buying those secrets was going to start killing innocent people! I had no idea he was going to use that information to hurt a fellow detective! I never would have done it!"

"What about all that bullshit with Sayu this morning?" I demanded, furiously. "Why did you tell her Light was Kira?"

Yoko gave a small gasp and another sob. "Oshima told me to test the information out… It doesn't matter, it was just another mistake, Aizawa… Everything I've done has been one terrible mistake."

"I'll say," I snarled, losing my temper at last. "You agreed to sell top secret information to someone you didn't even know! What did you expect?"

She just shook her head. "That's not all. I'm sure Toyoshi found out about the message Misa Amane left in her bedroom through me also."

"You leaked that?" I shouted. "I told you not to leak that! I specifically told everyone not to leak that!"

"I did though. I told Oshima about it—I sent him a picture and everything."

"WHY? That doesn't have anything to do with what he was trying to get you to investigate!"

"No…but it had to do with Kira. I thought it could turn out to be important. I swear, Aizawa!" Desperately, she reached out to me again. "I swear I didn't mean for any of this to happen!"

"Tell that to Okoshi and Chiba and all the other people who've had to pay for your mistakes! Tell it to Ide and Mogi! Go upstairs and tell _Matsuda_ about how he could die because of the stupid decisions you've made!"

"I know!" she wailed. "I know what I've done!"

"You don't!" I roared. "Did you think killing the commissioner would solve it all? Did you think that was your penance somehow?"

"No," she sobbed. "I killed him because he deserved it."

"Disgusting." I shook my head, spitting, "You're disgusting. I never want to see you again." I turned to leave. It was stupid. We needed her, but I was furious, and she was loathsome. It made me sick just to look at her face.

"Aizawa, wait!"

"Goodbye, Yoko."

"I have something that'll help you solve the case!"

That alone made me stop. As I turned around, she pulled a small stack of papers out of her jacket and hurried toward me like I'd suddenly run away. "It won't make up for all the things I've done…but I know it will help you!"

Briefly, I glanced at the papers. There was all kinds of information written down. At the top, a phone number had been circled in red.

"That's everything you need to connect Toyoshi to this case—I did as much digging as I could to find anything incriminating, anything that would connect him to Anubis, the commissioner, and Miyami. That's his phone number at the top. And this!" She pointed to an address on the paper. "This address is one of his hideouts! If he's anywhere in Tokyo, it's going to be here!"

I stared at it. "That's a business address."

"I know. But I swear it's good, Aizawa. Oshima himself told me about it—he said it's the only place he knows of where you might be able to find Toyoshi."

"How did you get him to give it to you?"

Voice like steel, she answered, "He blurted it out when he was begging me for his life."

I barely suppressed a shudder, and I made myself hold my ground. "You tortured him?"

"Not exactly. But he didn't die easily." Her voice drifted back to sorrow. "Aizawa, I know you can never trust me again, and I can't make up for what I've done. I don't even want your forgiveness—I don't deserve it."

"You're damn right you don't."

She backed away from me suddenly. "After what I've done…all the blood that was shed because of me, I'd rather die than go on with the knowledge that I was an accomplice to such a murderer."

Warily, I watched her. "What are you going to do?"

"There's only one thing I _can_ do!"

I watched in horror as she pulled her gun from the inside of her jacket. "Yoko, no!"

"Goodbye, Aizawa." She lifted her face for the first time, revealing her horrible eyes, haunted with a tormented guilt I couldn't describe, as if she'd looked into hell and couldn't forget it. They were the eyes of someone I didn't know, and tears rolled down her face. "Please tell Matsuda I'm sorry… I'm sorry…"

"Woah, woah, woah." I strained toward her, knowing I couldn't move or she'd die, but I held my hand out. "Nothing is worth that. You don't have to—"

She lifted the gun to her head, whispering again and again, "I'm so sorry."

"Don't!" I dove forward.

Crimson burst from her skull. My screaming voice got lost in the shot.

Her body hit the concrete, hard, and the gun clattered away. Blood spread thickly from the wound in her head. Vacantly, her eyes watched the sky, and her mouth smiled, white as bone.

I collapsed next to her, scraping my hands. "Yoko!" I gasped, dragging my quivering fingers across her face. "Yoko… Fuck! Yoko…" In vain, I sought her pulse. Ten seconds ago, she'd been alive. I'd been cruel. Now she was dead. Another comrade, gone.

Panic crashed over me like a wave of cold water. I couldn't breathe. I couldn't even think straight. I just knew it was over.

 _Okoshi, Chiba, Shinda, and Yoko—they're all dead! Ide, Mogi, Matsuda, and Kei—they're going to die! The NPA will be destroyed!_

"God!" I gagged, feeling a sob scald my throat. "No! No, no, no!"

 _I'm failing over and over, and there's nothing I can do!_

How many more people would have to be killed before this case was over?

All at once, I was crying, pounding the pavement, screaming at the sky, asking why. _Why?_

Yoko bled beside me.

"Get a grip," I told myself between rasping sobs. "Get a grip."

Behind me, voices drifted closer. Of course, the world wouldn't leave me alone in this moment of agony. I had to explain what happened—testify to her last moments.

 _I can't break down, no matter how badly I want to._

I forced myself to draw a deep, deep breath, and my lungs hurt from it.

 _If I lose it, this case will be lost too._

As the crowd drew closer, I forced myself to stand, scraping up the papers I'd dropped and rubbing my eyes dry.

"What happened?" a man demanded. "I heard gunfire."

With one last trembling breath, I faced them. "She's dead."

There were quite a few of them, mostly hospital employees, and an elderly doctor near the front of the group eyed me suspiciously. "Dead, how?"

"She shot herself." I hardly believed how cold my voice sounded. I flashed my badge. "I'm Captain Aizawa, with the NPA. She was a fellow detective. The case got to her."

Still, for all that coldness in my voice, I almost dropped my badge, shaken to my very core.

A murmur rippled through the crowd. They had no idea how close I was to screaming.

I draped my coat over Yoko and waited until the medical examiner arrived so I could tell him what had happened—for his report—and then, I knew, I had to go and file a report of my own.

On my way back inside, several of the doctors tried to deter me, saying I should sit down and collect myself, prattling about ASR and PTSD, but I pushed past them. My ten minutes were up a long time ago.

The elevator ride seemed to take forever, and the march down the hall was even longer. I made a point not to look at anyone I passed, doing everything I could to keep from collapsing into tears again.

Matsuda hadn't moved. He might not have even noticed that I'd been gone for more than ten minutes, so I guessed he hadn't been watching out the window after all, and he was reading some pop culture magazine with Misa Amane's face on the cover. The sight of her blue eyes smiling out at me made my heart heave.

Another person I had failed.

As I stood over him, Matsuda looked up from his magazine. "Hey. Where's my—" He stopped when he saw my face. No matter how well I was hiding it, he could see I was scared shitless, and sick, and sorry. "What is it?" he asked quietly.

"It's Yoko. She's dead." Reeling under the words, I fought to stay steady and braced myself against the wall.

He gaped at me. "Dead? But she—"

"She committed suicide outside just a few minutes ago. I was with her."

"Suicide?" The color drained from his face, and his voice was tinged with the beginnings of hysteria. "Why?"

"I have to go to the station now and file the report. If you want answers, you'll have to come along."

Matsuda continued to stare in disbelief. "Ai-Aizawa, are you—?"

"Matsuda," I said as firmly as I could, struggling with all my will to keep the shake out of my voice, to force my face to stay hard and not look like I was about to lose it. "It's just you and me now."

He studied me a while longer, and I saw how he was shaking. I saw he felt the same way I did—completely afraid, being crushed under the weight of guilt. But he nodded. "Let's go."

Not as clueless as I thought. He knew we were the NPA's last hope.


	25. Chapter 25

**Matsuda**

* * *

As Aizawa told me about what Yoko had done, including the way she committed suicide in the parking lot, I felt my eyes threatening to fall out of my head. My mind didn't want to accept that she was dead, or how badly we'd been betrayed. Furiously, I ran through the night I'd spent at the bar with her, again and again, looking for answers, but as I remembered how level-headed and confident she'd been, and the comfort it had given me to be there with her, the more impossible her betrayal and suicide became.

"There's gotta be a mistake," I cut in, before Aizawa could finish. "Yoko wouldn't do that to us."

Awkwardly, he shifted his weight, staring at me, and right then, more than any time before in my life, I wanted him to be tough, to tell me something matter-of-fact and stern and logical. Something to help all this make sense.

But the ferocity had vanished from his eyes, and his face looked haggard. I could tell he was about to give up, and I didn't blame him. Watching Miyami kill himself had been rough enough, but to see someone who was supposed to be your ally blow her own head off…

 _I can't believe it._

"She couldn't have," I insisted, gazing down the hall, willing her to appear and explain herself. "She would never have worked for someone like the Reaper."

With a sigh, he faced the window to stare out at the parking lot, and I was afraid to follow his gaze and imagine her lying down there with a bullet in her head.

"I didn't mean to tell her about Light." Maybe, if I hadn't done that, she'd still be alive. "It's not like she made me. I just…got so tired of it eating at me. I wanted to say it out loud. I trusted her."

"Well," he muttered, finally, "be that as it may, she turned right around and told the man who did that to you." He gestured to the bandages wound around my arm. "You could even say it was her fault that happened at all."

Absently, I rubbed the wound, imagining I could feel the sickening shape of the sutures beneath the gauze. "She didn't do it on purpose. She… We were friends."

Just like Light. Even after he'd betrayed us, I'd fallen into the same trap of trusting people who didn't care about me.

Overwhelmed, I fell back into my chair. "Is it always like this, Ai? Is this…just how it is? Being a detective?"

For a long time, he didn't answer, but what he'd said earlier, promising that he, and Ide, and Mogi, would never betray me seemed impossible to believe; believing it seemed stupid.

"People just use you? And lie to you? Stab you in the back?"

Slowly, he turned to give me a long look. "I don't know how you got so far along in life without noticing, Matsuda."

"I just always tried to see the good in everyone," I admitted. "Tried to see the bright side." Again, I touched my sliced arm. "I guess…I should stop that. I really thought Yoko wanted to help us."

Aizawa heaved another, deeper sigh. "Yoko did want to help us. She didn't know what she was doing, and when she found out, she couldn't come to terms with it. That's why she's dead." He lifted his hands from his sides in a tired gesture of frustration. "In a way, I guess she was just as naïve as you."

"Yeah…" I swallowed hard. "That…really sucks."

A faint light of concern touched his eyes. "Yoko had her reasons for what she did. I guess, if you're cynical, you can tell yourself it was all about the money, and she just got in over her head."

"Maybe," I agreed, dully. "Or maybe she really was just trying to bring the truth to light and didn't realize she was working for bad people."

"That's what she wanted me to believe."

"Do you?"

He lowered his eyes. "I don't think it matters what I believe, Matsuda. I'm already cynical."

Twenty years of being a cop had made him that way, I guessed, but, in my happy-go-lucky, idiotic way, I'd never considered how he might have been when he was young, I'd just thought his worldliness and cynicism had made him tough and cool. For all I knew, once upon a time, he'd been just like me, and going through things like this—getting betrayed and misused—had turned him into the guy I knew.

Facing it for the first time ever, I could see how that worked, and it made me afraid to think of how I'd turn out. I didn't know how to stop it.

I swallowed hard and gazed up the hall, toward the ER.

Only a few hours ago, the three of us had sat there, waiting to hear about Mogi's condition. Yoko's concern had seemed genuine. The things she'd had to say about Mogi had sounded real. The way she'd encouraged the two of us to make up had made a difference.

Tiredly, I got to my feet again. "I…want to believe Yoko cared about us. Just like I want to believe, somewhere, deep in his heart, Kira really was trying to make the world a better place."

"I know you do," Aizawa exhaled, painfully.

"I don't want to be cynical like you… No offense. I want to see the bright side and find the good in people. If I can't do that, I don't see the point in being a cop."

Jerkily, he nodded.

"Does that make me stupid?"

He shook his head.

"It's really hard." I swept my fingers through my bangs and realized I'd been shaking all day. Maybe I'd never stopped shaking after my encounter with Miyami. "I don't know how I can go on like this. Maybe that's why I'm not sure how to really be myself anymore."

Aizawa held my gaze for a long time, and I thought for sure he'd snort and grumble that he wasn't my guidance counselor and tell me, again, that I needed professional help.

Instead, he reached out and very gently nudged me, the look in his eyes tormented by regret.

Despite his cynicism, Aizawa had always struck me as the kind of person who tried to be strong for other people when they couldn't be strong themselves. I'd seen him do it for me, over and over, since Light died. Once, I'd even believed that if I could borrow some of the strength I saw in him, I had enough optimism for both of us.

"I want to stop the person who's doing all this to us," I husked. "And I want to get justice for Yoko, and Chiba, and Okoshi, and everyone else who's dead."

"I do too."

"Please don't bench me."

"Matsuda," he sighed once more, heavier than ever, and scraped his fingers against the grain of his hair. "I…don't even have that option anymore." Unceremoniously, he handed me the thick file Yoko had given him.

With trembling hands, I thumbed through it, feeling sick to find so much information and photos pertaining to our case, even things we hadn't known before today.

"It's make or break now," he explained. "We have everything we need to catch this guy…except manpower."

I slumped back against the wall. "So, what now?"

He pointed to the handwritten address at the top of the file. "According to Yoko, the Reaper is hiding out at this location."

It was written a little sloppily, and my vision seemed blurry anyway, but it looked like a business address in Shibuya, not too far from the station.

"We have to drop by the station to report Yoko's death, so we may as well get a search warrant while we're there, and then we'll go check it out." He rubbed the bridge of his nose, and I thought he sounded completely hopeless. "We'll try to get some back up."

It sounded like a suicide mission, and I didn't think I could be optimistic about it, just like it looked like Aizawa didn't have any strength left to share.

"Anyway," he mumbled, "I'm gonna go check on Ide before we move out."

I watched him move across the hall and enter Ide's hospital room; half stepping after him, I lingered by the door, torn between going in and putting on a brave face, and turning away, pretending this wasn't happening at all.

In the dark of the room, I heard Aizawa whisper, "Hideki. Hey, you awake?"

Ide groaned and turned over. "Am now," he slurred.

Hesitantly, Aizawa explained, "Matsuda and I gotta get going. We've got a pretty good lead to follow up on, so we're gonna strike while the iron's hot."

"Just the two of you?"

"No, of course not. We're dropping by the station first to see if we can organize a team."

Ide drew a long pause. He must know Aizawa well enough to be able to tell he was in distress. "Maybe you shouldn't, Shuichi."

"There isn't another option."

"There must be _something_ other than going over there with an insufficient amount of men and risking never coming back."

"What are you talking about?" Aizawa huffed. "Don't talk to me like that."

"You're the one who came in here, acting like he's saying goodbye for the last time. If you're gonna go die, Shuichi, you might as well have let me sleep through it."

"I'm not going to _die_ , Hideki."

I heard Ide emit a soft sigh. "You'd better not. You have a lot of people waiting for you to come back safe…"

"Of course. I'd do anything in my power to get to see my kids again."

"Sometimes, I'm not sure," Ide admitted. "I know you love Yumi and Tomi…"

I hadn't seen Yumi or Tomi in a long time, but when I pictured their little faces, and imagined how they'd burst into tears when they heard about their dad dying, my heart broke.

"You've been trying to carry the weight of the whole world on your shoulders since the day I met you," Ide went on, gravely. "I don't think you ever meant to have a family. I think you meant to die fighting to make the world a better place."

"For fuck's sake," Aizawa groaned. "Where's the nurse to turn down your morphine dose? I have no intention of dying, Hideki."

"I'm just saying, as much as you love the kids, and Eriko, I know you will go off and die trying to make Tokyo safe for them."

That did sound like Ai. Cynical or not, he had people to fight for, a sense of the greater good, a real, tangible reason to want to improve things.

 _I don't have anything like that._

"Besides, it's not just your family," Ide went on when Aizawa didn't argue with him. "I always knew you'd be chief someday—I declined the promo to captain so I wouldn't get in your way—and as much as maybe you don't want it, I think the NPA needs you. Working so hard at this case while everyone else hides just proves it."

I thought that was true, too. Like I'd told Ai earlier, there had been a zillion reasons Soichiro recommended him for chief, and he didn't have to mention any of them. I just knew. Because when Aizawa transferred to the Kira case in the first place, half the squad went with him. He organized his own task force when L drove him away from ours. He was a true leader. And he was real, and honest, and he cared about his subordinates, right down to someone as lowly ranked and pathetic as me.

Besides, if he didn't become the chief, who knew who they'd choose? Some snake, like Oshima, who'd sell his men out and make deals with devils? The NPA would fall apart from the inside.

As I stared at the outline of his broad shoulders in the dark, my eyes started to sting. Under all the prickliness and attitude, he was the good guy I'd always thought he was, and he deserved to make it home.

"Hideki, I didn't come in here to say goodbye forever to you."

"We have to face reality though, Shuichi. If you don't solve this case, the Reaper wins—Kira wins—you'd never let Matsuda take the fall all by himself. I thought I would be there to help you…to keep anything from happening… I'm sorry I can't be. And if you don't come back…I don't know how I'll live with that."

"This is ridiculous. I'm coming back, Hideki." He leaned down to grasp Ide's wrist. "I promise."

I looked at the file shaking in my hand, studying the address on top, and then I tossed it into the nearest chair, and turned on my heel, and marched up the hall, as quickly and quietly as possible.

Despite my fear, despite the danger, I could not be responsible for the death of Shuichi Aizawa. I could not be the one to tell his wife and kids he was gone.

As luck would have it, I got a cab driven by a chatty, middle-aged guy bent on talking about the weather and asking me about my plans for the evening. Still, I caught him sending me curious, nervous looks in the rearview mirror, so obviously, he didn't think I was the typical young man out on the town. I was such a mess anymore, I couldn't imagine how I looked to a total stranger.

Other than answering a couple of his questions, I kept my mouth shut, letting my mind slowly turn to a whirling pool of despair and rage.

All of this was too much—not just losing Yoko, but watching Sayu run away, seeing Anubis shoot Mogi, being tortured by Miyami—all within the same twenty-four hours. Now I knew where to find the man responsible for all that pain, and even if I died in the process, I would make him pay.

At least the drive was short. We pulled up in front of a sleek, silver skyscraper, gleaming in the night, just as green thunderheads gathered behind it.

Violent wind gushed through my hair as I stormed up the steps, focused on the cold bite of the gun in my hand. I'd left everyone behind, and now the pistol and my fury, were the only protection I had. If I couldn't control them, I'd die.

Not an easy death either. A true nightmare.

 _I must be out of my mind._

Throwing open the doors, I charged into an ordinary-looking lobby, where a smiling receptionist sat behind a shiny desk.

"I need to meet with Toyoshi-san," I told her in a voice too black and angry to be mine.

"Ah," she folded her hands. "You must be Matsuda-san."

The sound of my name stopped me cold, and I stared at her, but she didn't look dangerous.

To my look, she simply smiled all the brighter and explained, "I was told you might be stopping by."

My mind raced. They knew I was coming. Did someone tip them off?

"Who told you that?" I husked.

From the corner of my eye, I saw a dark shape move at the far corner of the lobby, and I heard the familiar click of a gun being cocked.

I dove over the desk, dragging the receptionist to the floor with me, just as an explosion of bullets flashed over my head.

The woman screamed, and we slammed against the floor. I scrambled up again, pressing tightly into the desk, while she huddled, whimpering.

Not breathing, I held very still.

"Oooh, Matsuda-chan!" an unfamiliar voice chimed out. "C'mon out—I know I missed."

I drew a deep breath.

Another, gruffer voice called, "I didn't think you'd show, Matsuda-chan. I had you pegged for a coward."

"The Reaper knew though. The Reaper knows all."

On the floor, the receptionist squeaked, "Wh-what's g-going on?"

Was I supposed to believe Toyoshi had just guessed I would show up here? He must be keeping an eye on our team, so he'd be aware that Aizawa and I were the only ones left in commission. If he knew Yoko had gotten to Oshima, he might have just guessed. Maybe, before he died, Oshima had even managed to tip him off. Or maybe someone else had told him, someone like…

 _Don't go there. Focus. Focus._

I listened carefully. I'd only heard two voices so far, but there could be ten more guys covering them, and I had no way to tell.

An insane laugh echoed through the open lobby. "You're wasting your time! No matter what you do, no matter where you go, Death will find you!"

Blocking out the terror threatening to invade my mind, I forced myself to breathe. Getting shot here in the first five minutes would be humiliating, even if I wasn't there to see Aizawa identify my mutilated corpse or hear him, mutter, "that's what he gets for going without me."

 _Don't be stupid. If I get shot here in the first five minutes, Ai is probably going to get killed next._

It just wasn't like him to roll his eyes and look the other way. He'd be furious, he'd storm in here like an idiot, trying to end it all, and that would be on me.

The anger boiled up inside me, shouting, _take the risk—you're going to die here anyway!_

I shook that away. The image of Anubis blowing apart the desk to shoot Mogi filled my mind.

 _Focus._

Again, a voice called, "At the count of three, I want you on your feet with your hands behind your head. Got that?"

The desk… It wasn't good cover.

"One."

Why hadn't they shot me yet?

"Two."

 _Toyoshi wants me alive_.

"Three!"

I popped up above the desktop, raising my gun.

Near me, a man in black tried to lift his weapon to shoot.

I fired twice. He went down.

On the right, I noticed movement, spun on the balls of my feet, just in time to gun another down.

A bullet zinged past my ear.

 _Behind._

Shouting, I rolled over the desk and ducked down on the other side. Bullets exploded through the wood, each one making my heart jump.

I raced suddenly for the stairwell, firing at the third gunman as I went. The first shot missed, but the next two found their marks—one in the shoulder, the next in the forehead. He flew back.

Under the rattling sound of gunfire, I heard someone shout, "That fucker's crazy!"

I dropped to my knees, sliding the last few feet to duck behind the wall.

 _Five shots so far. Five left._

Five bullets would not get me out of this.

Struggling to hear over the sound of my own panting, I dared to poke my head around the wall locate the source of the bullets.

Someone fired a pop shot that came nowhere near to hitting me.

 _By the elevator._

Right by my head, plaster exploded as another shot narrowly missed. They could have hit me ten times over by now—they must be missing on purpose.

Big mistake.

I reached out and fired from behind the wall. A cry of pain echoed through the lobby, and then all fell silent.

Drawing my arm back in, I crouched, breathing heavily and listening as the minutes ticked by. No footsteps. No guns being reloaded. No voices. That didn't make it safe…

At last, I got up again and peeked around the corner, scanning the lobby, but it looked like I was alone with the corpses of the men I'd killed. Blood spilled across the white, marble floor. Behind the desk, the receptionist whimpered.

I crossed the room carefully, gun held at the ready, turning in every direction, eyes darting and watching, and then I ducked behind the desk again.

The receptionist sat up on her knees, clutching her head between both hands. Mascara dripped from her terror-glazed eyes.

"Are you all right?" I panted, touching her shoulder with a trembling hand.

Her glasses sat crooked now on her nose, and her red lips quivered, but she nodded, sobbing, "I-I think so…"

"I'm with the NPA. Akki Toyoshi is a criminal involved in the black arms deal."

Eyes gleaming with tears of fear and confusion, she warbled, "I-I don't understand… Th-the NPA sent you to infiltrate…all by yourself?"

Voices shouted, far, far down the hall on the left.

"Get out of here," I ordered. "Wait until it's safe, and then run."

She gave a shaky nod.

"Don't let them see you."

The voices drew closer, not just calling out, but shouting, fiercely. I heard them scream my name, out for my blood.

 _Even if they want me alive, I could still be shot._

My heart jolted, and an image of Light, staggering and bloody, screaming wildly, shot through my mind.

 _Focus._

I jumped up and scrambled to the nearest body, where I found a submachine gun with a fresh clip.

Clutching it tightly, I sprinted for the stairs, and grabbed up another nine millimeter on my way. The magazine was a higher capacity than mine, with fifteen shots left, so I slammed it home, listening as the voices closed in.

"There he is!" Three men in black suits burst out from the hallway, aiming automatic weapons at me, trigger fingers itching. "Hold it right there, Mr. Policeman!"

I turned on them and squeezed the trigger, sending a short burst of bullets into their midst. The machine gun was like nothing I'd ever experienced before. It didn't have a lot of recoil, but its accuracy wasn't great either. My arms rattled all the way up to my shoulders.

The first man screamed as a spray of rounds hit him, tearing him apart. He collapsed and his comrades had to stumble over his body.

I made a mad dash for the stairs and bolted up, taking two steps at a time. Gunfire boomed through the stairwell, and a bullet ricocheted off the walls.

"After him!"

Keeping low, I fired behind me arbitrarily as I ran. I heard another man fall down, screaming in pain, and then I knew there was only one left to chase me.

On the sixth floor, I hit a wall of men all dressed in dark suits with red k's sewn into their jackets. They caught me off guard, and I staggered.

None of them fired. One ordered me to drop my weapons.

Being wanted alive definitely gave me an edge.

 _Good for me_. My mind raced. Here I was infiltrating the main headquarters of a crime syndicate, going right for the boss, who wanted to torture me to death, and I thought being wanted alive was just great.

 _No holding back._

Screaming, gun blazing, I ran right for them. They dropped left and right, and I leapt over their bodies. Up the stairs, more voices shouted. Men flooded down toward me, only a few flights away.

I crashed through the door to the sixth floor and exploded out into a long corridor. Shoes squeaking on the polished floor, I slid to a stop. The hall was empty. The men behind me were closing in. I bolted for the elevator, far down the hall, just as they came out, hot on my heels.

A bullet grazed my arm, ripping through my clothes and scraping off the first layer of my skin. I stumbled against the wall. "Dammit!" I forced myself to keep running, eyes fixed on the elevators.

 _Just a few more steps._

The doors opened. A new wave of men marched out, flagging me with their guns.

I stopped hard, wound up falling on my butt and dropping my machine gun.

A man stood over me, reaching down to grab my shirt front. "It's all over, kid," he sneered.

Panicking, I whipped out my pistol, blowing one perfect shot through his face. Brains and blood sprayed the wall behind him, and he slumped to the floor.

Barely slipping through their fingers, I rolled to the side, leapt up, and jagged past the elevator, running blindly down the hall. There were a lot of them behind me now, and I was getting nowhere.

 _This was a bad idea,_ I told myself, as I ripped around the corner. Any moment now, I'd be shot, and that would be the end of this whole stupid thing.

Ahead of me, a door loomed. Fire exit. My stomach sank. I drew a deep breath and ran faster, diving forward. I didn't know what to expect on the other side. The door burst open, and an alarm screamed. A gust of cold, wet wind hit me, and the luminous city sprawled below me, blazing with nightlife.

 _I must be out of my mind._

A scream tore out of me.

I sprang from the platform, barely snagging the rungs of the fire escape, and my hand slipped along the wet steel as the momentum of my body flew forward. Heart pounding, I clung to the ladder, breathing so hard I thought I'd puke up my heart.

But then, I was climbing, hand over hand, as fast as I could.

Below me, the door burst open.

"Holy shit! The little fucker jumped!"

"No, he's up there!"

The ladder rattled.

I paused to aim back the man climbing up after me. His dead body slumped against his comrade, and they both tumbled from the side of the building.

The next in line screamed, "Fuck! I'm not going out there!"

"Just shoot him!"

"You dumb ass! Reaper wants him alive!"

Panting raggedly, I blocked out the wind and the terrifying sense of all the space below me, focusing on the climb.

 _This is insane._

If they got onto the fire escape above me, I'd be screwed, and I was beyond terrified now. Rain began to pour, and the wind picked up—I thought it would sweep me off the building and throw me to my death. My teeth chattered and my heart raced.

"Holy shit," I breathed. "Holy shit, holy shit…" My elbows and knees buckled with every rung I reached for, and my vision threatened to go dark.

A hideous face appeared in the window next to me. I took aim, fired, and kept climbing.

Hours seemed to pass. Rain hammered me until I was drenched. My fingers got so numb and cold, I thought I'd lose my grip, and soon my arms burned. It took all my willpower to keep my eyes fixed on the top of the building. If I so much as thought about the drop, I knew I'd freeze up, and the fire department wasn't coming to get me.

Finally at the top, I fired a few shots at the window and kicked in the glass, feeling it shred through my ankle; I tried to climb through carefully, but I was shaking so bad, frantic to have solid ground under my feet again, I wound up getting cut after all. My shoes found plush carpet, and I collapsed, lying in a heap, feeling like I could hyperventilate.

 _No time._

Shuddering, I forced myself to get a grip and looked down at myself; both my sleeves were shredded, arms slashed to ribbons, and blood poured off them. "Sh-shit…"

Getting unsteadily to my feet, I hunched over, hands on my knees, still shaking all over. I'd known this would be hard, but God, this was too much. When I found Toyoshi, I was going to take it all out of his skin.

If I even could. When I first got here, a vicious anger controlled me, growing out of a dark fear that something could happen to Aizawa next, and it had driven me. Now though, the fury had started to subside, and I felt dead cold, afraid to my very core. I might not have the guts to kill Toyoshi.

Come to think of it, I didn't even know where Toyoshi _was_. For all I knew, he was way back down on the first floor. He might not be here at all.

 _No… No, he's gotta be up here. That makes the most sense._

With any luck, I was right.

Finally feeling a little calm again, I looked around, trying to let my eyes adjust to the darkness, but I must be alone, or someone would have pounced on me by now.

I'd come to a large office, even bigger than the one at Yotsuba, with high ceilings and black floors. Off to the side, a huge desk faced the window, and the room opened up on both ends into smaller offices.

Purple lightning crackled against the inky sky, revealing the silhouette of a man at the desk.

"Well done," a dark voice purred. "I told the boys to herd you this way, but I honestly didn't think you'd make it."

It sounded like Troy. I still remembered his voice, threatening to kill me during our fist fight. I also remembered that he'd attacked Sayu. That made it really hard not to kill him immediately.

He got up, hands in his pockets, body thrown in a cocky stance. "I guess Akki was right about you—you _are_ unpredictable." He moved toward me, lazily, and I gripped my gun all the tighter.

"Where is he?"

"Why's it matter? Do you think you're going to kill him?"

"It's me or him. Just like he wanted."

Troy laughed. "One thing is consistent about you, Matsuda—you're an idiot. Akki was chosen by Kira himself. You can't stop him."

I shuddered, trying to push the pain of my wounds to the furthest corner of my mind, searching past the fear for the rage I needed to end this.

"What do you mean he was chosen?" I wondered, thinking of the notebook and the shinigami again. "He _talks_ to Kira?"

"Kira's been talking with my brother for years. Even when we were children, he used to have prophetic dreams; it was Kira who told him to work for Yotsuba—I suppose he knew he'd reach the top of the corporate ladder in time, but I must admit, I used to have my doubts."

Realizing I wasn't in the mood for a monologue, I scowled. "Sounds like he's just crazy."

"Think what you want. After he kills you and your partners, the NPA will crumble; over time, all of Tokyo will belong to us, and Lord Kira will return to take his rightful place as god."

Imagining Light as the god of anything made me sick.

I raised my gun, trying to remember how many rounds were left in it, but I'd use every last bullet and then tear Toyoshi apart with my bare hands if I had to. "Tell me where he is."

"I think not." He slid his hand out of his pocket, and I saw he had a gun also—a nine mil, black and shiny.

As soon as I saw it, I fired. The bullet zipped through the air and struck him right in the chest. Glass cracked. It flew everywhere like shards of crystal, leaving me staring at…a broken mirror?

Laughter.

I spun around to see him grinning at me, gun aimed for my head. "Idiot. I didn't think a simple trick like that would work. Akki knows you all too well."

"You…" I growled. My hand shook, but I didn't dare move; I was facing the complete wrong direction to fire. Simple trick my ass. "How'd you know I was coming through the window?"

He waved me off, and instead of answering snorted, "Remember? I told you there's safety in number. And you're all alone." He drew closer, gun on me. "In the end, I don't think you were anything special. It must have been a huge mistake, a dumb fuck like you killing Lord Kira."

"You son of a bitch," I spat, helplessly.

"I've been looking forward to this ever since our fight, you know." I could finally see his face and the violence shining in his dark eyes. "Akki wanted to do it himself, but I doubt it matters who kills you as long as you die." A white smile gashed his face, flashing in the lightning outside. "Nice to know you."

A gunshot echoed through the room.

I teetered back.

 _Oh my God, he shot me! I've been shot! I'm going to die!_

I was so angry, part of me was almost relieved this could be over.

Gasping, I stared down at myself, but I wasn't bleeding, and I didn't feel any new shocks of pain. I touched my chest to make sure, but everything was intact. Bewildered, I looked up at Troy again.

He stood stark still, a trickle of blood running from his mouth. Heavily, his gun clattered on the floor.

Dark as a shadow, Aizawa prowled into the room.

"Ai-Aizawa!" I blurted out, and I even rubbed my eyes, hardly believing he was actually there.

His eyebrows had settled low over his burning eyes, his mouth curled in a furious scowl, and his forehead was creased. I saw his nostrils flare and his mouth set, the way it always did when he was trying to keep his temper. He had a rifle slung across his back and his pistol clutched in one hand, not so much as wavering as he circled around Troy kicking his gun away.

"What are you doing here?"

"What am _I_ doing here?" he rumbled. "I came to save your damn life!"

The words shocked me out of my own rage and fear, thrusting me, harshly, back to reality, and I realized I was lucky he'd come. "You must have really been speeding," I murmured.

"No thanks to you."

Stupidly, I watched as he dropped down to see if Troy was alive and put him in handcuffs, grumbling to himself the whole time. I just couldn't believe he'd come after me—plenty of other people would have just been glad I was gone.

Aizawa got up again, glaring into my eyes, silently demanding an explanation.

I licked my lips. "I…wasn't expecting you."

"You should have been, Matsuda."

I'd been so sure I'd never see him again, even his anger was comforting. Rage resting some, terror cooling, my shoulders slumped. "Thanks, Ai."

Abruptly, but not harshly, he grabbed one of my wrists to turn it over and examine the slashes. I felt him shaking. "What happened to you?"

"I got cut coming through the window." I jerked my chin at the broken glass.

"God, Matsuda."

"I know. It was stupid."

Still grumbling to himself and frowning and shaking his head, he took a moment to push my torn sleeve back, trying to see the wounds better though the darkness.

"Think I'll be okay?" I husked.

"Yeah." He glared into my eyes again. "What the hell were you thinking? Did you really think I'd just look the other way when you disappeared?"

I shook my head, fighting the sudden urge to throw my arms around his neck. He wouldn't tolerate that, just like he wouldn't appreciate it if he found out I'd overheard his conversation with Ide and come over here alone to protect him.

When I'd held his gaze a few seconds, though, his expression softened. Lightly patting my shoulder, he scanned the room again, slower than before. "So, where's this fucker at?"

I looked too, but the office looked like it hardly got used, full of designer furniture and clean as a museum exhibit. "Not here, I guess."

Snorting, "Better search the place," he stalked to the other end of the room, heading for one of the smaller offices.

I started after him, but stopped, suddenly feeling like we weren't alone. "Hey, Aizawa, wait…"

He shot a supremely irritated look over his shoulder at me.

"I—"

Another gunshot cut through the silence, and I saw another spray of blood as a bullet ripped through Aizawa's shoulder.

He stumbled back, shouting.

"Aizawa!" I rushed toward him.

A cool voice warned, "Don't even think about it, Touta Matsuda."

From out of the office on the right, he emerged, blowing smoke away from the barrel of his pistol, mouth smiling like he didn't have a care in the world. He was dressed all in white with a red tie, and his skin was creamy pale. With his dark eyes and shadowed sockets, he looked like a ghost.

The ghost pointed his gun at me. It was a higher caliber than either of ours—a 40 gage.

"I'd advise you not to move."

Fists clenched, teeth gritted, I watched Aizawa drop his standard issue to grasp at his wounded shoulder, and blood oozed through his fingers. Gasping out a curse, he dropped on his knees.

Anger in me erupted like a volcano, rushing straight to the surface, where it was hardest to control. "Who are you?" I snarled, body lurching with the urge to rush forward and beat the hell out of him.

The ghost set his haunting gaze on me. "Now really."

"Toyoshi," Aizawa spat.

"The same." Toyoshi strolled past me and approached Troy to crouch next to him. "Well, Kage, I tried to warn you."

Troy, who I'd assumed was unconscious, shuddered on the floor, croaking, "Nii-san…"

"Poor boy," Toyoshi said smoothly. "Someone should have put you out of your misery a long time ago. Perhaps I should even thank Aizawa-san before I kill him."

My body jerked again. He wasn't looking at me now, and I thought about getting to Aizawa. I could try to shoot him. I could try to end this nightmare before it got worse.

In the end, I didn't dare move.

"Nii-san…puh-please…" Troy writhed and heaved a ragged sob. "Help me…"

"Don't you worry, little brother." Toyoshi's smile was as cold as death itself. "I will." He pressed the gun to Troy's head and pulled the trigger.

I jumped.

"You-you shot him," Aizawa stammered, face paling with pain and fear.

The Reaper turned that spine-melting smile on him. "Ah, so did you, Captain."

"You're evil," I breathed.

Toyoshi shrugged at me. "I am all there is—evil and good. Justice. Lord Kira selected me to carry on what he started, to prepare the world for his return, and the rakuen that will follow; but not everyone can enjoy the paradise—none of my colleagues were worthy, not even my brother. None of them deserved to see the second coming, just as you don't. Though, you do have the esteemed privilege of being Lord Kira's blood sacrifice."

I gawped at him. It was a lot of crazy babble, and I felt like I could barely get my tired mind around any of it.

"You're outta your mind," Aizawa sputtered, struggling to get up again, breathing heavily. "If you think killing Matsuda will accomplish _anything,_ you're outta your goddamned mind."

"I suppose…" Toyoshi sighed. "I suppose it would be hard for a heathen to understand. Still, you have to admit it was brilliant the way I worked all this out; all the little details are something only a true artist could appreciate. And it was hard, you know, figuring out who killed Lord Kira. It was only through his divine help that I could even gain this position of power. I suppose he knew what was coming all along. Like the Christ."

The crazy babble didn't matter. Getting out of this alive had suddenly become my new priority, and I shot a look at Aizawa. It would take several steps to reach him, and if I made a move at all, Toyoshi would probably shoot him.

"I did figure it out though." Smiling, he began to circle us, gun aimed, unwavering, at me. "Wouldn't you like to know how I did it?"

I kept mine clenched tightly to my thigh, never taking my eyes off him. "I'm not in the mood for monologues."

"Come on, Matsu," Aizawa muttered. "If we're going to die, we might as well understand why."

Even if it was just to stall for time, I didn't see the point in listening to anything this freak had to say.

"That's right," Toyoshi agreed, stepping in close to kick the pistol away from Aizawa, letting it skitter across the floor. "And anyway, I think you might be interested in hearing _your_ part in the story, my _boy_."

He snapped his teeth down on the words and smiled viciously at me.

"Let's hear it," Aizawa encouraged, still holding his shoulder. "While I'm conscious."

He was stalling. He must have scraped together a back up force.

"Yes, of course. Forgive my manners. You see, when it was first announced that Lord Kira had died, it was apparent to me that several key details had been excluded, but bribing the media only got me so far—of course, they only knew what L wantedthem to know. My old friend, Ken Oshima, though, was more than willing to aid my cause when the director denied my request for information. He even allowed me to see the official report you submitted, Captain." He snatched the rifle from Aizawa's shoulder, slinging it, carelessly across the room.

"Good thing I didn't put anything important in that report," Aizawa goaded, but his face was growing paler, scrunched up in a pained wince.

I thought about asking Toyoshi to let me look at the wound. I even thought, maybe, he'd let Aizawa live if I agreed to go with him.

Where was back up?

"No, you were thorough." Toyoshi patted Ai on the head like an obedient dog. "The only thing of value I managed to learn from that was the names of the men on the task force. I must admit…" He licked his white teeth. "I did consider killing all four of you, but…" His dead-eyed gaze flicked up to settle on me again, and my stomach dropped at the sight of all his insanity and hate. "I wanted the pleasure of punishing Kira's murderer in person."

For a little while, he stayed silent, seeming to drift into his own world, and meanwhile, I made eye contact with Aizawa, finding him already staring at me; he jerked his chin at the gun in my hand.

I clutched it tighter.

"Misa Amane," Toyoshi began again, in a reverent tone, "was some help also. She at least gave me the alias of Taro Matsui, which was something I could use."

"What did you do to Amane?" Aizawa demanded.

"We only spoke—briefly."

Even to think of this creep talking to Misa-Misa, touching her, prying, made my blood boil.

"Oshima remembered that she had been brought in once for allegations of being a sort of second Kira, so I knew she had connections with you all."

Carelessly, Toyoshi bent down to frisk Aizawa for any other weapons.

It gave me a clear shot. Aizawa mouthed the words, _do it_. It was lucky Toyoshi was so crazy and careless—he didn't seem worried about the gun in my hand at all—but I hesitated, worried about accidentally hurting Ai, and Toyoshi stood up again and leveled his aim back on me. "You know, though, that girl was such a mess, I didn't have to do anything to her. A shame. She dearly loved Lord Kira, didn't she?" With the muzzle, he set a furious gaze on me. "Her blood is on your hands as well. She told me how tactless you were in delivering the news of her fiancé's death."

I sucked in a sharp breath.

"Outside of that, she didn't have much to say about you other than you're an idiot—which is true, I'd imagine—and that she doubted you'd have the guts or prowess to kill anyone. In fact, she, like so many others, seemed to believe it was you who shot Lord Kira, Captain."

"What if I told you no one killed Kira?" Aizawa asked calmly, but with barely concealed panic. "What if I told you it was a shinigami?"

"Aizawa," I gasped.

But a rumble of chilly laughter rolled through the room, and Toyoshi stumbled back, as if he could hardly stand.

Anxiously, I watched the barrel of his gun drop a good seven centimeters.

"Fantasies won't save you, Captain," he cried cheerfully. "I never would have expected this nitwit to be the man who murdered Lord Kira, not even in the beginning, but nonetheless… He has led you to your doom! If I were you, I'd be happy to see him dead."

"Yeah, you obviously don't understand loyalty," Aizawa growled, and he glared at me, glancing meaningfully at the gun in my hand. He probably could have taken the shot five times by now.

"Oh, Captain," Toyoshi laughed, dabbing at his eyes. "You're only saying that because you _failed._ You failed to keep this half-wit under control, and you failed to fully grasp who you're dealing with—the wealth I possess, the connections that have helped me, even having my brother's gang at my disposal; you may have speculated on some of it, but the half-cocked way you've been letting this idiot run about, and your own reckless tendency to jump the gun has kept you from reaching any true understanding about the position you're in."

Inevitably, I looked at Aizawa. I guess Atashi Rei's warning that he didn't understand who he was dealing with had been more than an idle threat after all.

"You're almost as stupid and reckless as Matsuda, though nowhere near as entertaining."

"Just get on with the story," Aizawa grumbled. From the way he kept looking at me, I knew no back up was coming—he was waiting, I realized, for me to do something.

I couldn't, though. There was just no way.

"Well, when I first planted the Taro Matsui ID, I meant only to flush you out. It worked beautifully. My spies reported that Captain Aizawa himself investigated that scene—the prime suspect in the death of Lord Kira."

At that, Aizawa's eyes clouded over, like they sometimes did when he thought he'd made a mistake, and his voice finally wavered. "Y-you made a mistake about me too, though…"

"Quite right." Toyoshi waved him off. "But it's nothing compared to the mistakes the two of you have made." His poisonous eyes found me again. "Especially you _._ I'll admit, you have a foolish reactionary for a captain, but everything you've done, from dropping your wallet at the home of my forger, to killing Hiro Miyami, has worked out in my favor. I know what kind of man you are now, Matsuda."

My blood turned to slush. Aizawa had been right all along about playing it cool and staying on the sidelines. For all I knew, if I'd listened, Toyoshi never would have gotten so far and done so much damage.

"That's right," he hissed. "Your self-destruction has been spectacular, but you're a dangerous man—unpredictable and reckless. It's almost criminal. In a way, I'll admit, I've grown fond of you, and I shall truly cherish our last hours together, nearly as much as I will your agonized screams."

"S-so just kill me," I snapped, barely able to take any more, thinking seriously of throwing my gun down just to get it over with. "That's what you want."

Toyoshi clicked his tongue. "Not quite. You have to suffer first, and so, for now, say goodbye to your dear captain." Deliberately, he pressed his gun to the back of Aizawa's skull.

Horror clamped my guts like a steel vice, and I watched Aizawa's face stretch with terror.

"Wait!" I lurched forward a step, but I didn't dare do anything. "I'm the one you want! Do whatever you want with me, just don't kill him!"

"Matsuda," Aizawa growled, faintly, "don't you dare drop that pistol."

I nearly had. I still might. "Please," I begged. "Don't punish him for my mistake!"

"You… Kira must have _despised_ you," Toyoshi laughed. "Why don't you shoot me? You're a good shot. Well, there is some risk, though, of hitting him, judging by the way you're shaking. And you are a coward." His eyes gleamed with malice. "Maybe you'll find your rage when he lies bleeding at my feet."

"You can't! He didn't do anything—he has a family— _don't_!" Turning ragged, my voice gave way into sobs. "Please! I'm begging you! Don't do it!"

Toyoshi sighed. "What a shame. I get to have a showdown with the whiny child after all." He nudged Aizawa with the gun. "Last words, Captain?"

A little longer than blinking, Aizawa shut his eyes, and his face looked white like the moon in the darkness. Through clenched teeth, he croaked. "Remember what you promised, Matsu…? You promised…"

I did promise to take care of his family, but I hadn't thought it would come to this. I had thought I could protect him. How dumb, thinking _I_ could protect anyone; I'd gotten him killed. And now, even if I murdered Toyoshi for it and escaped, it would be at the expense of Aizawa's life.

"I'm so sorry," I husked. "I'm so, so sorry about Light, and Yoko and the others. Ide and Mogi… Aizawa, I'm so—"

"I don't care about that," Aizawa cut in, brusque but quiet. "Just…keep your promises, Matsuda." His eyes opened again, hard as polished stone and burning with silent fury, sucking me back to the moment he'd laid his hand on my shoulder, voice snarling, _promise me…blow his fucking head off…_

And the lingering, unsaid condition— _no matter what it takes._

Toyoshi chuckled. "Charming. But in twenty-four hours, Matsuda will be a bleeding shell. A vessel for the spirit of Kira." He cocked the gun.

Screaming, I lifted my pistol, high, even though I knew it would cost Aizawa's life.

Eyes widening with surprise, Toyoshi fumbled to wheel on me—he didn't know what he was doing with the 40.

A shot rang out, but the bullet whistled past my head. Aizawa lunged at him, delivering a curt karate chop to his wrist and knocking the gun from his hand.

I squeezed the trigger.

With a cry of pain, Toyoshi stumbled back, clutching his chest.

While Aizawa scrambled to retrieve the 40, I stormed toward the Reaper, biting off every word. " _You_ made the mistake. _You_ underestimated _me_."

Wheezing, he grasped the front of his suit.

Automatically, I kicked him in the side. It felt so good, I had to do it again, and then again. Before I knew it, I was kicking him over and over. I dropped down on top of him, punching his face until his nose broke and his teeth shattered. "You evil bastard! You monster! Kira hated everything—he would have hated _you_! You killed them for nothing! All for _nothing_!"

Feebly, he writhed beneath me, struggling to shield his face.

I would cave his head in.

"Touta!" Aizawa screamed, jerking me back and hauling me to my feet. "Touta, stop!"

Furiously, I clawed at him, still swinging for Toyoshi. "He doesn't deserve to live! Think about it, Aizawa! _Think about it_!"

Tightly, he jerked me against the crook of his neck, where I got a full breath of his cologne and aftershave. Even wounded, he was strong—so much stronger than I could ever be.

Next to my ear, he whispered, "I am. I'm thinking how much you'll hate yourself if you beat him to death."

Still, my bruised fists trembled at my sides. I realized I'd dropped my pistol. "It's too much," I gasped, barely able to keep from breaking down as I thought about how close I'd come to losing him. "It's too much!"

"I know." He squeezed the back of my neck. "But it's over."

Gradually, I sank against him and let my head rest on his shoulder, trying to believe that was true.

"It's okay," he murmured. "It's over."

Behind me, another peal of feeble but deranged laughter split the silence, and then Aizawa let me go to aim his gun again, voice booming despite how sick and weak he looked up close. "Did you hear me? It's over—you're under arrest!"

I turned to face him, but the Reaper sat up on his knees, suit torn open, fingers caressing the place I'd shot, where I saw the dull gleam of a bulletproof vest.

My heart sank. No wonder he hadn't been concerned about my gun.

Slinging his long hair around, he turned to us, eyes rolling with insanity, teeth missing, blood streaming down his face. "You're lucky, Captain," he hissed. "Your children will live to see Lord Kira's paradise."

Suddenly, he sprang up and rushed us.

Aizawa fired. The 40 should have knocked Toyoshi on his ass; he must have missed.

Instinctively, I shoved against him, thrusting him away. His voice yelled my name, just as the Reaper flung himself against me.

Together, we slammed into the window I'd broken through. Pain lanced through my skull, and sparkling glass scattered around me like confetti. I felt the floor slip out from under my feet, and frigid wind rushed through my clothes as I fell, fell, fell. Into the dark abyss of the city.


	26. Chapter 26

**Aizawa**

* * *

Like in slow motion, I watched Toyoshi charge, unable to move quickly enough as he grabbed Matsuda, and they both crashed into the window. Already fragile, the glass burst on impact, and they hurled out into the darkness.

No time to scream. No time to think. I dove.

Only a step or two separated us, but it suddenly felt impossibly far. Time stood still. Matsuda and Toyoshi hung suspended, centimeters out of reach. They wouldn't stay that way; time would resume, and I'd watch Matsuda plummet to his death.

My fingers snagged the wet sleeve of his jacket. Their combined weight dragged me forward, dangerously close to the edge. Frantically, I caught the jagged window frame. Glass slashed my palm, deep.

A yelp tore out of me.

Matsuda slammed against the wall of the building, and Toyoshi nearly lost his grip as force slung him forward. Whimpering, he clung to Matsuda's ankles.

Pain tore through both my arms, and I felt like all my fingernails must have gotten ripped off, but I hung on, panting and watching them dangle like a fragile string.

"Dammit!" I squeezed my fist, tight. The vinyl of his coat was too slick, damaged fabric already tearing. "Matsuda!"

His head hung limply to one side. Crimson trickled down the back of his neck.

"Wake up!"

Not so much as a groan.

Beneath him, Toyoshi's crazed eyes bore up into me, disbelieving and furious. His broken, bloody face demonic in the dark.

"Give up," I gasped. Every breath hurt. The pain searing my shoulder in two made me want to pass out. "You can't go anywhere!"

Not blinking, he gawked at me.

I bent my knees, struggling to shuffle back even a few centimeters. Between the two of them, I must be holding almost two hundred kilograms by the tips of my fingers, but I grated out, "I will. Not. Let him go. I'd rather. Give up my right arm."

"Loyalty." He barked out a laugh. "You fool. You could be cleansed. Once his blood is spilled, you could enjoy the Rakuen. Drop him."

Such a gale of wind rushed around us, I was afraid it would pick me up and fling me out into the darkness as well. A scream clawed its way up my throat.

"I'm not dropping Matsuda to chase ghosts!"

Thunder and rain answered me, hopelessness manifesting in the storm.

"By all means then," he murmured, "let me chase them alone."

Just like that, the crazy bastard spread his arms like a fucking bird and fell.

Stunned, I watched his pale shape disappear into the night, and then I was alone with the pattering rain.

"Two suicides in one day," the cop side of me muttered.

Drawing a deep breath, I planted my feet and let go of the window pane to get a grip on Matsuda's wrist, and then, painstakingly, I hauled him inside. It was harder than I ever would have imagined. I thought my back would break. By the time he lay on the floor next to me, my vision had started to blacken, and my core felt cold and sick.

If I lost consciousness from blood loss, who knew where I'd wake up? Any member of the syndicate could walk in here while I was knocked out and shoot Matsuda for good measure.

"Matsuda…" I panted, dropping next to him. "We have to…get out of here…"

He turned slowly onto his side, coughing and staring up at me through quivering eyelashes. "Where are we…?"

"Not safe." Trying to shake off my dizziness, I clutched his arm and felt the gash on the back of his head. "Come on."

It took everything I had to get to my feet. Slender Matsuda suddenly seemed to weigh hundreds of kilos, but I lifted him to my shoulder and half-dragged him back into the corridor and to the elevator. My heart raced. Every sound—from the thunder outside to the faintest of tapping down the hall—made me jolt.

Gradually, he came around, head rolling, voice fluttering inarticulate babble. I felt his fist clench the collar of my jacket. He kept asking what happened, and I knew he was only half conscious.

The building had gone mysteriously quiet, no sign of the rest of the syndicate, but some of them must still be lurking. I kept my pistol ready, but with blood still gushing from my burning arm, I didn't know if I could use it.

Maybe, I hoped, any survivors would leave us be when I told them their boss was dead.

I'd taken a lot of them out on my way to the top floor, and Matsuda had done plenty of damage himself. Some lunatic side of me even wished I could have seen him. In a fit of passion, in full possession of his skills, with that deadly aim on his side, I had no doubt he'd been terrifyingly dangerous.

 _I'm glad I didn't see_ , I told myself absently. _That's not really Matsuda._

No, Matsuda was all laughter and cheer, making coco on snowy days and beat boxing to the sound of his keyboard as he wrote reports. Matsuda came to me at the end of an emotionally taxing, hopelessly long shift, slung his arm around my neck and told me everything would look brighter tomorrow; he always reminded me that I was the best. Matsuda brought me pie on my birthday, because he knew I didn't like cake. That was the Matsuda I would have died for without thinking it through.

Corpses clotted the hallways, and, in the lobby, blood splashed the walls. Matsuda killed all those people. For me. I didn't know if I should feel grateful or extremely sorry.

We staggered to the exit. By that time, he was at least trying to walk. "My head hurts so bad," he complained, words slurring.

"Concussion on top of a concussion," I sputtered. "Whatever brains you had to start with must be fucked."

"I don't think I can even remember my name," he joked faintly, as we finally stepped out into the storm.

I'd left my cruiser parked across the sidewalk, headlights still on, windshield wipers still going. The sight of it didn't make me feel safe, but I did feel relieved. Honestly, I hadn't expected to come out of this building alive. I'd thought we'd both die, and my one and only hope had been that I could get to him before he was killed, if only so he'd know that I came for him.

My heart hurt to think of the way he'd stared at me when I entered the office upstairs. He hadn't been expecting me. He'd been expecting to die alone.

I practically crashed against the car door, leaning there a long moment and heaving with pain and emotion. "I'm glad you're alive," I muttered, and squeezed him around the waist. "You…have no idea." My head spun and my knees buckled.

He babbled, "I had the craziest dream, Ai. It was like a flying dream. Do you ever dream about flying?"

"No."

"It was like that, except instead of flying up, I was flying down." His head fell to one side, resting against mine, and some of his damp hair stuck to my cheek. "There were stars everywhere. But it was dark. I couldn't even scream." His body convulsed. "I think you were there."

"I was."

Scariest damn thing I'd ever seen, Matsuda falling to his death. Momentarily, I wondered if I might be dreaming now too, if I'd failed to save him, and this was just something my mind had made up to give myself closure and let me say goodbye.

"This is real…" I husked, and my eyes started to sting. "This is real. Right?"

Heavily, Matsuda blinked, looking around with dull eyes. Rain poured down his face, mixing with blood so that diluted, orangey-red dripped off his chin. "I'm not sure."

I sighed. "No more flying."

With the last of my strength, I got the car door open, practically stuffing him inside, and then staggered around to my side to slide, uselessly, behind the wheel. Once there, all I could do was watch the raindrops stream down my windshield and listen to the storm rage.

My mind began to clear, gradually, becoming more aware of reality, thinking more logically about what had just happened, until my doubts slipped away, and I knew we'd both made it out alive.

Reluctantly, I looked at Matsuda again, slumped over against the door, jeans and jacket torn and spattered with blood, face waxy, and I could hardly believe he was safe. This strategy of single-handedly storming the gates of hell had been so risky and insane, I honestly hadn't expected to get to him in time, and self-preservation had even nagged at me to just let him go and hopethat letting the Reaper have what he wanted might put a stop to the murders.

Seeing him fall, though, after everything else I'd been through today, would have snapped me like an old rubber band.

"Hey." I shook him suddenly, knowing I shouldn't let him pass out again. "You did good, Partner. For once, blazing in like an idiot paid off."

With heavy-lidded eyes, he blinked at me. "How?"

"You kept them distracted. If I'd really had to fight my way in, I might have been too late." After all, we couldn't _all_ go breaking through windows and trying to outgun sixty men at a time.

"Too late for what?" he wondered.

"Too late to save you. Knuckle-head."

"Ah. You didn't save me, though, I saved you."

When I'd felt Toyoshi's icy gun brush my skull, I'd known it was over; in my thoughts, I'd said goodbye to Eriko and the kids, hoping they'd understand the truth I'd been willing to sacrifice my life for, but I hadn't dared to hope that I'd survive. I'd only hoped watching me die really might throw Matsuda into a rage, so that, at least Toyoshi would die right after me.

 _I do get to go home. I do get to kiss my wife and hold my kids. I get to keep living._

"I know you did, pal." Shooting pain blazing through my muscle, I lifted my hand to feel the wound on the back of his head, and my fingers found the deep gash, still bleeding. "Thank you."

With a wince, he automatically pushed my hand away. At least his motor skills weren't shot.

"This is the last stupid thing you're allowed to do," I murmured. _"Ever._ You understand?"

To my surprise, he uttered a painful laugh. "What you call stupid's…just me, Shu…"

"Yeah. I know. Nonetheless." I reached for the ignition, even though I wasn't in any shape to drive. Right now, I couldn't so much as administer basic first aid, and we both needed the hospital.

 _No choice._

In the distance, though, I heard the whining of sirens, hesitated to look up and see the sparkling of red lights come around the corner.

"Who's coming?" Matsuda murmured in his slurry voice. If he lost consciousness, I didn't know if he'd ever come to again.

I smacked his collarbone, and he jolted. "I don't know. I never bothered calling for back up."

"You didn't?" His head rolled against the seat.

"No." I shook him, carefully though. "You have to stay awake. Someone must have reported the gunshots. Or witnessed Toyoshi's fall."

 _What a crazy waste. All of this…for what?_

Not so different from Light.

"Fall?" he groaned. His eyelids drooped.

"Stay awake." I pinched him.

Gradually, headlights splashed across my blurry vision, and a parade of cruisers sped up the street toward us, accompanied by several ambulances and a special forces van.

I heaved a sigh of relief.

Given the state of things lately, I wouldn't expect even special forces to show up. They weren't much use to me at this point, but the ambulance was a welcome sight.

"Oh, man." Matsuda lifted his head to stare out at them. In the bright lights, his pupils appeared to be different sizes. "We're in trouble, huh?"

"No, no. You're not in trouble, kiddo. Just try to stay awake."

The cars screeched to a halt. Immediately, squads of officers piled out. The van peeled up onto the sidewalk, and a troop of men with rifles sprang from the back.

"Just in time," I uttered, dryly. "Now that it's over, here they come in droves. I can't believe—"

I cut myself short as the slight figure of the director himself emerged from a cruiser, silhouetted against the lights, and opened an umbrella. Nonchalantly, he strode our direction.

Firmly, I squeezed Matsuda's arm. "You stay here. I'll be right back."

He blinked at me. "What if I pass out?"

"I'm gonna grab a medic."

Matsuda grasped my sleeve. "I don't really want…" Lately, he'd been so crazy, and with the additional head trauma adding to his confusion, I half expected him to say he didn't want to go on the ambulance or that he didn't want to be any trouble, but then he muttered under his breath, "Don't leave me."

Through all this, he'd proven much tougher than I'd ever expected, but, as impressive as his resilience was, I felt relieved to see a glimpse of his vulnerable side again, to know that the gentle, cheerful Matsuda I had gotten to know so well still existed.

"I'm not leaving you." Lightly, I clenched his wrist. "I'm getting you a medic. Just hang on."

And then I shook loose of his grip and stepped out of the car, keeping my hands raised at waist level so one of the special forces meatheads wouldn't shoot me. A wave of them had rushed into the building, but a handful crept up on my cruiser, weapons ready. By then, the director had reached my hood.

"I'm Captain Aizawa!" I shouted. "Criminal Investigation Bureau."

I barely noticed the cool tone of the director instructing the men to stand down before I whistled at the nearby ambulance. "I've got a cop with a head wound over here!" Impatiently, I watched them grab their equipment, glanced once at the director, and then leaned back into my car to give Matsuda another nudge. "You're awake, right?"

"I'm cold," he muttered.

"You're okay, though. The ambulance is going to take you to the hospital."

"Are you coming with me?"

"I'll be there." Grudgingly, I clutched my bleeding shoulder.

"But are you coming with me?"

"Yeah. If that's what you want."

Heavily, he nodded.

At last, the medics reached us. They got the door open to start examining Matsuda. I watched a moment as they flashed a small light in his eyes, and then, satisfied he'd be taken care of, I walked around the hood to meet the director.

"I'm surprised to see you," I told him, coldly.

Streetlights barely illuminated his gaunt face and reflected off his wireframe glasses. "Are you?" he asked, in his casual, paternal tone of voice.

"Yes." Anger shuddered through me. "As far as I know, you've been looking the other way ever since any of this started."

Unfazed, he asked, "Now, why would I do that, Shuichi? Surely, you're not thinking clearly, son."

I bit my tongue. I'd already said too much.

Boko waited politely before saying, "I haven't heard from you at all, Captain. It was only this evening that I learned what's become of your team, to say nothing of the treachery of Commissioner Oshima. If Lieutenant Ide hadn't called me—"

" _Ide_ called you?" My jaw dropped.

"He explained that you and Corporal Matsuda were the only two investigators left on this case, and that you were both heading into certain death."

Ide had insisted on knowing where we were going. It was lucky he was so good at remembering addresses and phone numbers without having to hear them more than once.

 _I've been telling you for twenty years, if you'd just apply yourself, you'd be a real ace. Maybe even better than me._

Nevertheless, that lazy asshole had been the one to save my skin again. This must be the thousandth time. It didn't even matter that reinforcements hadn't come on time, I was lucky Hideki was still alive and that he'd always have my back.

 _I owe you._

Boko cocked his head. "I also received a letter from Sergeant Karisa Yoko, detailing the betrayal committed by Commissioner Oshima and her intentions to kill herself, but I'm afraid I didn't open it until after Ide contacted me." He bowed. "I do apologize, Shuichi, but once I found out, I came here as quickly as I could."

Clutching my arm again, I turned to watch the medics, in the process of extracting Matsuda and strapping him to a backboard. There wasn't time to grill the director if I wanted to get on the ambulance with him.

"It's unfortunate I didn't realize the importance of that letter sooner," Boko persisted. "So, again, I'm terribly sorry, Captain. Especially, I'm sorry you didn't feel as though you could come to me for help."

I leaned against my car, and a trembling hand passed my forehead of its own volition. I might have tried going to the director if Matsuda hadn't disappeared on me. Obviously, he hadn't had any faith in the rest of the NPA either.

He did still trust me, though. I needed to stay close to him.

First, I knew, I had obligations. Once they were settled, I'd be able to get my arm looked at.

Boko laid a slim hand on my shoulder. "Perhaps you should sit down."

I shook my head and stood up straight again. "Sir. Akki Toyoshi, also known as the Reaper, is dead. Less than thirty minutes ago, he killed himself. He was in control of a large syndicate in possession of illegal weapons. Many of them are out of commission now, as well, but some likely got away."

He studied me, thoughtfully. "I see. Then, the case is closed?"

Surely, I could give my full report later. Surely, no one expected me to stand here in the rain, bleeding, and explain everything that had happened. "I consider it to be."

"I see." He nodded to himself, and suddenly extended his hand. "In that case, congratulations, Chief."

Bewildered, I stared at him.

"You've earned it," he added, gently. "Tying up a black arms case with such a small command and a double-agent commander is no small feat, Shuichi."

"No. But…"

He cocked his head again. "Do you not want the promotion?"

The Reaper's words about how foolish I'd been, how ineffective I'd been at controlling my team, unable to accurately assess my perpetrator rattled through my weary brain. "I'm not sure I'm cut out for it. That's all."

"I see," he repeated, and tapped a finger to his pointy chin. "In some ways, you know, it was Soichiro Yagami's dying wish."

"He never mentioned it to me."

"Well, his death was quite abrupt, but, what I mean to say is, he spoke to me about it not long before he passed away. He was adamant that you have the position when and if it became available, perhaps out of concern for his former squad. Though, he did mention he didn't like to see you throwing your career away on Kira."

Again, I turned to watch the medics treat Matsuda. They'd given him some oxygen. One was busy field dressing his head.

When he'd told me that Soichiro had wanted me to be chief, he'd acted as if I should have realized that myself, but I had never noticed the way my superior had apparently viewed me.

"He felt strongly about it," Boko insisted. "I can only deduce that he thought your skill sets were better suited to leadership than they were to quietly working yourself into an early grave under L, and he made a convincing argument."

"Well," I muttered. "Deputy Director Yagami wasn't right all the time." I could hardly get the words out, though. He'd nearly always seemed to be. Maybe, if we'd talked about it while he was alive, I might I have been able to understand what he'd wanted for my career. Or, maybe, his death had shaken me so deeply, left me feeling so lost, I'd let some of my confidence slip.

What mattered to me now, was making the bleeding in my arm stop and ensuring I was there when Matsuda came to again.

Boko stood shoulder to shoulder with me, also watching the medics. "Corporal Matsuda spoke out of turn to back him up."

Easily, I imagined Matsu jumping into a conversation between the director and deputy director, just to say his piece about how great he thought I was.

 _I almost lost him._

"Between the two of them, it was difficult not to agree, and, I must say, they made me feel as though it's what I want as well. I suppose, then, the only question is, is it what you want, Shuichi?"

One thing hadn't changed, I was done following the orders of corrupt, stupid fuckers.

I couldn't help glaring at him. "Is this why you're here, Sir? It's a strange time and place to offer me a job."

Taken aback, he studied me, and then a slight smile unfurled across his lips. "Shuichi, I thought I made it clear—I came in person to see to it that the two of you are in fact alive." Musingly, he twirled his umbrella in one hand. "I see what you mean, though. It's unconventional. If you need time to think it over, by all means."

If nothing else, being chief might give me a little more control, and I might actually have a shot at protecting Ide, Matsuda, and Mogi.

 _If Mogi survives…_

I winced.

When the silence had gone on a moment, he lowered his voice. "I can see you're exhausted. Please, don't let it trouble you, and we'll discuss it again when you're well enough."

"No," I growled. "I accept. But, as chief, the first thing I want is some decent time off for my men."

"As chief," he replied, quietly, "that's entirely up to you, Aizawa-san."

"And, respectfully, I expect you not to ask a lot of questions about classified information."

"Yes, of course."

Still, I eyed him, suspiciously. "I mean it, Boko. I know what Soichiro Yagami was really trying to protect when he recommended me for chief, and I can't do it without Ide and Matsuda…and Mogi. They're part of the deal, or I'm washing my hands of your NPA."

"Shuichi." Boko smiled, contritely. "I know you're tired. I hope you believe me when I say I am on your side, and everything you're so intent to protect, I'm sworn to protect as well."

"Right," I snorted, thinking of how nice it would be to tell him about the notebook and let him worry about it from now on. "Good. Thank you, Chokan." I managed a painful bow. "Now, if you'll excuse me, my corporal needs me."

Earnestly, he bowed back. "You'll be a hell of a chief, no doubt about that." His mouth smiled, but his eyes looked sincere. "I look forward to working with you."


	27. Chapter 27

**Long chapter, guys. And, look for the preview to my up-coming FallOut sequel at the end of the chapter!  
Thanks for reading!**

 **Epilogue**

 **Ide**

"I told you not to do this."

Aizawa kept his eyes closed, and he still looked bad, but at least his face had gotten its color back. When Eriko showed up in my room, puffy-eyed and whispering that Shuichi had been shot, I had gotten up without a thought to go and see him, and the deathly way he'd looked had plunged me back into my misgivings about my ability to go through life without him.

The doctors had apparently had a hard time tearing him from Matsuda's side even after the kid was admitted, but once Eriko had showed up and convinced Shuichi he needed to think about himself also, he'd stabilized quickly.

"Matsuda was going to die," he muttered. "What did you expect me to do?"

"He's an idiot," I snorted immediately, trying to keep my injured neck very still. Without my painkillers, every slight twitch sent a jolt of agony down my spine, and I knew it wouldn't be long before one of the nurses found me and herded me back to my own room. "You shouldn't have let him go either."

"He didn't exactly ask my permission."

With a sigh, I studied his injured arm, furious to think that someone had shot him while I was lying here.

Matsuda, too. For days, he'd been drifting in and out of that nearly comatose state, incoherent when he was awake, restless when he slept, and we'd had the hardest time getting regular updates on him, being that, either his family didn't realize they needed to report that information to us, or, unthinkably, they weren't here to look after him at all.

In any case, the last doctor who'd agreed to speak with me about it had said he didn't expect Matsuda to die, but they wouldn't know until he really woke up whether or not there'd be lasting damage.

I'd done everything in my power, that night, sneaking out of my ward to call Director Boko, but I hadn't been able to protect them. Back up hadn't even arrived on time.

 _Never again._

"Hideki," Aizawa grunted, and I looked up to see his eyes open a sliver, dull from medication. "Let it go. It's not your fault."

"Lately, you and Matsuda have done nothing but blame yourselves for things outside of your control," I pointed out.

"I know that," he said, after a pause. "But…"

"It's no different," I insisted. "Even saying I got shot isn't a good excuse for not being there when you needed me to be."

"Then what is? You couldn't be there, that's all there is to it; but we could, and that was the only way to bring all this to an end."

Even Mogi had finally turned a corner and gotten onto the path of slow healing. In time, he'd be okay. We should all just be grateful, I supposed, that none of us had died.

Quietly, still, I said, "And if Matsu wakes up with brain damage, are you going to beat yourself up for that?"

His forehead furrowed disapprovingly.

"Are you going to spend the rest of your life angry with yourself because you couldn't catch him before he hit that window?"

"No," he sighed, unconvincingly. "But. I will feel guilty."

"So will I," I assured him. Really, I couldn't bear the thought that Matsuda might never be himself again. To avoid it, I changed the subject. "In any case, it all turned out to be worth your while. Chief."

Aizawa took his time responding, and I knew he wasn't ready to let go of the subject of what had happened to Matsuda. I knew, no matter what he said, he would always beat himself up for not being perfect.

"Time to move forward. Right?"

"If I get to move forward, it only makes sense that you should too," he muttered, at last. "That's how it's always been, isn't it?"

"Seems like it." I checked my pockets automatically for cigarettes I didn't have. "Besides, I'm tired of being a lieutenant. Not glamorous enough."

"Not glamorous…" he echoed, incredulously.

"Captain Hideki Ide has a nice ring to it."

"Yeah, it's cute," he snorted. "And it's about damn time. For all I know, being captain will help you find your sense of initiative."

"Eh. You'll still be giving orders, I'll still be following them."

He rolled his eyes. " _If_ I promote you, I expect you to step up, put some of that charm and talent to practical use. But anyway, I wasn't talking about promoting you."

Surprised, I held his gaze a while.

"Don't act like you don't know, Hideki."

"I honestly don't."

"Lately, I've been thinking we're not kids anymore—maybe it's just part of watching Matsuda run around, being reckless, risking his life for some idealized sense of heroism—it's been a long time since we were that way."

New recruits, I thought, might be startled to learn that, once, Aizawa and I had been the starriest-eyed in our graduating class, fully confident in our ability to change the world for good. Committed to justice. Cynicism had worn so much of that away, I'd be lying if I didn't admit that I'd come to believe it didn't matter anyway and let myself get lazy.

"I've decided it's more than aging," he announced, with a kind of drunk sagacity. "The Kira case sucked away a lot of our lives; we all put things off that maybe we should have done years ago, but some of us more than others."

Without a doubt, for those six years, Kira had taken precedence over everything, and I, like the others, had let personal matters fall to the wayside.

"But it's over now, Hideki," he went on, softer. "You have the opportunity to start something new, and you should take it."

"Maybe someone needs to turn down your morphine," I joked, half-heartedly. "It almost sounds like you're firing me."

"No," he said seriously, shifting in the bed and moaning. "I need you. Anyway, I'm not talking to you as your chief; I'm talking to you as Shuichi."

In some ways, that meant more. He was everyone's chief, now, but only I could say he was my best friend.

"Okay," I agreed, growing serious as well. "What are you talking about, Shuichi?"

An odd grin crept across his mouth, caught between relaxed and mischievous. "Your little gaijin."

 _"Komagata_?" I demanded. "After everything that's happened, you're bringing up my _love life_?" Exasperated, I threw my hands up. Pain dropped down my spine, and I went stiff again immediately, sort of glaring at him. "Nosey bastard. This isn't the time."

"There is no 'the time,' Hideki," he went on, still in that slurred but knowing tone of voice. "You could have died—we all brushed elbows with death last week—so… You know. The time is now."

I snorted. "Don't be ridiculous. Flirting is one thing. Dating that little brat…" I tapered away, suddenly unable to say anything negative about her, and it came back to me, vivid and warm, how it felt to hold her in my arms when I'd thought I was about to leave this life forever.

"I know it's hard to impress you," he went on, softer. "As far as you've ever told me, I'm nearly the only person who's managed it, but…it's not fair to assume the one chance you had at love slipped through your fingers years ago."

Pain jolted down my spine again, and I realized my whole body had jerked at the words. I stared first at him; he kept his gaze leveled seriously on me. And then I glanced at his drip bag again. "You sure this is set at the right dose?"

"I know you never got what you wanted," he explained, as if I'd asked a different question.

I couldn't look at him, and I couldn't help whispering, "I never wanted anything, Shuichi."

"You never asked for anything. That's different."

Not once, in twenty years, not even in my stupidest, drunken moment. I couldn't remember that I'd even once suggested that I might want something.

"If I had wanted something," I answered at last. "I don't think I could stand to be near…"

As I tapered away, he smiled a little, but sadly.

I scraped at my hair. I'd said too much. "I have no idea what you're talking about, really."

"All right. Well, look, it's like I've been saying a long time—I don't want you to die alone, regardless of what it might have to do with me."

"It has nothing to do with you."

"Come on, Hideki," he coaxed. "We're alone."

I kept my gaze averted. Even alone, this wasn't the day to admit to things I'd been stepping around for years.

"The point is, Kei likes you. And you like her. More than I've ever seen you like any woman."

For a strange second, I felt some inexplicable urge to deny it—she was too much, that damn Kei. Much too bold and outspoken. Too _rude_. But…she was interesting, if nothing else. She was beautiful. She'd stayed beside me to what had seemed to be the last moment. All her bravery and ambition put the demure and selfish women I'd dated in the past to shame, and yes, I _wanted_ to be with her.

"You do like women."

"Occasionally," I muttered.

I'd thought his voice couldn't get any quieter, but when I still didn't answer, it dropped all the lower. "It's really not a big deal."

"Not to you. You've never had to settle for second best."

"That's true," he admitted, at length.

"You're lucky," I said, without jealousy or resentment. "Not everyone meets the perfect woman who will love and support them through anything, let alone gets to be with that person."

Stiffly, Shuichi sat up on his elbows, studying me, matted spikes plastered to his brow, eyes glazed with meds, and I knew this was our one and only chance to say any of this. I regretted that, even so, I didn't dare say anything.

"It's been almost twenty years since I got married," he reminded me, gravely. "Are you going to do this to yourself forever?"

I'd been ambivalent in my relationships for as long as I could remember; no one I'd met had ever been quite good enough. Long ago, I'd had to accept that, no matter how lonely I got, no matter how empty life could sometimes feel without someone to honestly share it with, that was just the price for me to pay.

"Why does it matter to you so much all the sudden?" I asked, sharply.

"Because," he replied, firmly, "you have a chance to be happy, and I want you to take it."

"I'm not unhappy." I finally met his gaze again. "And I don't even feel like I just do without. I know where the line is, and I don't cross it. That's all."

"Buddy," he sighed. "If she's not going to cut it, okay. I see the way you guys look at each other, though, and I've had to watch your hopeless flirting for weeks now. Maybe my opinion doesn't matter—"

"It always matters."

"Then I think she could be good for you. I've seen you hook up with much worse over the years, and no one is saying you have to marry her. I'm just saying there's no reason to punish yourself like this and die alone." He drew a breath and muttered, "You're worth more than that, Hideki."

"Oh, it's not that serious," I snorted. "The last six years have been hectic, that's all."

"That's over now, though. It's time to start moving again."

I couldn't help laughing. "You make it sound like _you've_ kept me going through the last six years."

He gave a painful shrug. "You always keep me going. You and Eriko. I wouldn't be anything without you."

"I doubt that," I grumbled, and thought it over a second, but maybe he was right and I didn't have any real reason to fight it. "All right, I'll think about it. I mean…if she wants to… Why not?"

"Good enough. Now go away. I'm tired."

Stiffly, struggling to keep my neck straight, and looking down my nose at him, I got to my feet. "You know…during the Kira investigation, we had some dark days."

"Days when we all wanted to quit," he agreed, under his breath. "Go do something more rewarding."

"We all kept each other going. Soichiro. Even _Light_. Maybe, even if everything else becomes public knowledge eventually, that's something no one will ever understand."

"Sure. We're an unsung brotherhood."

Laughing a little, I bent down, very carefully, to clasp his wrist. "Turn up the morphine a little more, and you'll be writing haikus."

"I don't know if I'd go that far."

"Anyway, Shuichi," I murmured, staring hard into his face, feeling like an era had passed me by. "From the kid I met in the academy, to the chief I respect more than anyone, you're always the guy who comes through in the clutch. You got the four of us through this. None of us will forget that."

He grabbed onto my sleeve, lightly, but earnestly. "You scared me, Hideki."

"You scared me too…"

"No matter what happens, I don't ever want you to think that I don't need you and want you with me."

"Well, that's good. I'm not going anywhere."

I went back into the hallway, hesitating there to lean against the wall and think a moment, unable to help the smile that crossed my lips. I laughed to myself, "That guy."

"Hey, stupid," Kei's voice cried from down the hall, and I heard her cowboy boots clipping over the floor. "You're not supposed to be on your feet!"

Still grinning, I turned to face her, watching the way her cornsilk hair flew and her eyes flashed and her pretty mouth pouted. "Yeah, yeah, sorry."

"I swear, I go out to do something nice for you." She waved a pack of cigarettes at me. "And you disappear! Completely irresponsible! You'll never get better if you keep acting this stupid, you know that?"

As she drew closer, suddenly what Aizawa had said felt overwhelming, about starting fresh and moving forward, and I knew he was right. I didn't have to let go of the past completely—some parts of it would always be with me—but I had found something through all this I wanted to fight for.

Even with her still scolding me, I suddenly grabbed her arm, ignoring the pain in my neck, and pulled her close to press my mouth against hers, silencing her.

Kei gasped in surprise, and I ran my fingers through her silky hair, knowing, even if it didn't last, I wanted to treasure the way she made me feel.

As I let her go again, she stared up at me, blinking, cheeks flushed.

"Come on, Komagata." I took her hand in mine, pulling her gently up the hallway. "It's a nice day to get married."

"I-I don't want to get married," she murmured.

"I know," I laughed. "You American girls are so stubborn."

But she wound her arms around mine and nuzzled against my shoulder, and I knew moving forward was just what I needed.

 **Matsuda**

The shot rings out, but this time I can't wake up. No matter how dark it gets, no matter how afraid I feel, the shadows of loneliness expand around me; sometimes I see their edge, a thin crack of light being gradually swallowed by darkness, but no matter how fast I run, they always disappear right in front of me, leaving me trapped in a void of starless night.

Everything around me is so flat, I can hardly tell what's the sky and what's the ground, but when I turn around, desperately looking for anything familiar or comforting, I'm completely alone. I scream, but no one answers, my voice only echoes back at me, and Toyoshi was right-I sound like a whiny child.

What can I do, though? They're all dead-Aizawa and the others-I got them killed being stupid and reckless, leaving me no choice but to face my fears alone.

Out of the deepening blackness, an icy voice laughs and taunts me, _There is no escaping Death._

The gun fires again. This time, it feels like a harpoon through my head, and I collapse back into an even thicker veil of shadows.

Next, blinding light burned my eyes, and a horrible, high-pitched whine hammered against my brain. Beyond it, an unfamiliar voice murmured, "He's stable…" and then a strange face appeared above me, framed by black hair, eyes hidden behind shining glasses, just floating there like a ghost.

"Touta," that same voice said quietly, "can you hear me?"

Blinking, I tried to understand where I was, but the white room was a frightening contrast to the black void I'd just seen, and my heart started to hammer immediately. Chiba had died in a very similar place, and I fully expected to see Toyoshi standing by, grinning, ready to torture me to death.

"Touta, you've got to relax," the stranger warned, flashing a light in front of my aching eyes. "Do you remember what happened?"

"My head," I husked, automatically reaching up to feel the lump at the back of my skull, but it had been bandaged. Looking down, it seemed like most of me had been, and I vaguely remembered going through the window.

In the tight cavity of my chest, my heart started racing all over again, hammering into my sternum like a prisoner, and I sat up straight. "Aizawa!"

Agony split my head, and I dropped back against the pillow, clutching the bedding and writhing.

A warm hand clasped my shoulder. "Touta, you sustained a serious head injury. I need you to lie still and try to tell me what you remember. Do you know where you are?"

"Who are you?" I demanded, shooting him a semi-defiant glare, but I didn't know how much longer I could fight. "What do you want?"

He paused. "My name is Doctor Maru. I'm just trying to help, Touta."

"Stop calling me that." I pressed my face into the chemical-smelling pillow. "I'm Matsuda."

"All right, Matsuda-san. Do you know what year it is?"

"2013, I guess."

"Good. And do you know the prime minister's name?"

"Abe… Isn't it? Shinzo Abe…"

"Very good. Would you please recite your home address for me?"

Again, I glared up at him. He still looked like just a floating head, but I was starting to think that was because his coat matched the stark white of the room so closely. "Why would I tell you that?"

From behind the shiny glasses, his eyebrows crawled to the top of his forehead like caterpillars, and he murmured, "I see. Then, you _don't_ know where you are."

"The hospital, right?" Vaguely, I remembered waking up a few times before, surrounded by strangers asking weird questions or testing my reflexes. Once or twice, I thought I'd seen the vague shape of my sister, hovering over me. Mostly, though, I'd been alone.

It had to be the hospital, but I didn't know how much time had passed. "Just because I don't want to tell you my address doesn't mean I don't know where I am."

Doctor Maru nodded again. "Very well. I'd like to schedule an MRI for later today, if you're feeling up to it. In the meantime, please relax, and keep in mind you suffered a severe head injury."

"Twice," I murmured, remembering how Aizawa had grumbled, "One concussion on top of another," and then made some weird joke about losing brain cells.

"That's right," Doctor Maru agreed, with a small smile. "It's imperative that you rest."

"When can I go home?"

"I want to do a few more evaluations." He adjusted his glasses and picked up his clipboard to study the info there. "After that, we'll discuss it. For now, rest."

He left the room, and I lay there a little while, becoming more and more aware, until I finally recognized the EKG machine next to me, and the drip bag connected to the needle in my wrist, and the curtain separating me from the hallway, where I heard people walking and talking back and forth. The bed felt uncomfortable, the pillow was too squishy, and everything smelled gross. After being there only a moment, I decided I couldn't stand it.

Gritting my teeth through the pain, I plucked the IV needle from my vein, threw off the blankets, and climbed out of bed.

Right away, the room started to spin worse than ever, and the floor felt like it was tilting. I nearly fell as I stumbled across the room to pull the curtain open and peek out; Doctor Maru lingered nearby with his back to me, absorbed in reading his clipboard.

With a deep breath, I stepped out of the room and began to pad as quickly as I could over the cold floor, hanging onto the wall and glancing dizzily over my shoulder. I didn't know where I would go, and I knew I wasn't in any shape to go anywhere—my vision was slightly blurry, and my old wounds still burned—but I couldn't lie there any longer, having nightmares, feeling alone, edging closer and closer to insurmountable guilt.

Yes, I remembered now, vaguely, that the Reaper was dead; he'd thrown himself out a window trying to kill me. The case should be over, but I couldn't get back all the officers who'd died, and there was no undoing the stupid mistakes I'd made. Moving on, pretending none of that happened, would be impossible.

Once I'd rounded the corner, I checked back to make sure no one had noticed me, and then I leaned against the wall and gazed up the corridor to the little lobby in the distance. A portrait window revealed that it was night out, but I couldn't tell how late, and a row of chairs sat there, facing the elevator. It occurred to me to sit down for a moment so that I could plan my next move.

I shambled into the lobby, keeping one shoulder pressed to the wall as I absently unwound the bandages from my left arm. The thick sutures stitched into my inflamed skin made me feel sick, but the k had started healing, and the other lacerations I'd earned by breaking into Toyoshi's office looked like they could be a couple days old already. All of it would probably scar.

Even if I moved on…could I ever be the same again?

Going back to work felt impossible. Hiding in my apartment from the world would probably destroy me. In some ways, it felt like simply wandering away—walking as far as I could for as long as I could—was my only option.

 _Just run away. Like a child. Like a coward._

If this case had proved anything to me, it was that I'd always be weak.

Dad told me that. For most of my life, he'd sneered at me for crying or getting my feelings hurt, and even on my first day at the academy, he'd just shook his head and spat, "Touta, you'll never make it."

The self-satisfaction and pride I'd felt on graduation day had been bittersweet, because he wasn't alive to see that I'd succeeded or to admit he'd been wrong about me or to say he was proud. There had only been Mom, crying into her handkerchief and whispering her fears about my getting killed.

Exhaling a sharp curse under my breath, I stopped at the elevator and stared at my reflection in the shiny doors. It felt like I hadn't quite gotten out of that dream about wandering in the void.

As I was standing there, the elevator to my left opened, and Aizawa and Ide strolled out. "Just because you were discharged doesn't mean you get to be an idiot," Aizawa announced, in a loud, salty voice.

Ide chuckled, "I only went a few blocks."

Both of them had their arms in slings now, and Ide wore one of those Styrofoam neck braces, but judging by the way they were dressed, in slacks, sweatshirts, and jackets, they both must have been discharged already.

Wildly, I turned to the window and bit my lip, wondering if they might go by without noticing me.

"You look like a dog who just got his balls chopped off—obviously, you're not supposed to be riding your bicycle—"

"Ah, save your lectures, Shuichi. There's somebody who needs a talking-to more than I do."

I winced hard.

"What in the hell are _you_ doing?" Aizawa demanded. "Dammit, doesn't _anybody_ have any common sense?"

Resignedly, I faced them again, giving a lame wave. "Hey, Ide. Hey, Ai."

"Don't hey Ai me," Aizawa growled. "You're not supposed to be wandering around. You've been in a coma, for fuck's sake."

"A coma?" I murmured, touching the back of my head again. The lump under the bandages felt bigger than before. "Not really…"

"You've been unconscious for days. We call that a coma. You shouldn't be out of bed."

"Haven't gotten all the stupidity out of your system yet?" Ide wondered.

Too tired and disturbed to listen to them bust my balls, I scowled at him, but Aizawa grabbed my arm before I could say anything and pushed me back the way I'd come.

"Go. Walk. At least you didn't get far. Damn it, Matsuda, where _are_ your parents?"

"I don't need parents," I muttered, shrugging out of his grip and trying not to lose my balance at the same time. "I'm thirty-one years old."

"Believe me, you still need parents. I can hardly believe they even let you move out."

I supposed, when most people were hospitalized or went into a coma, their parents showed up to be near them, if they could, and age didn't have much to do with it.

"Mom is probably just busy," I murmured, partly to myself. "And she doesn't like to travel around town alone."

Aizawa snorted his disapproval. "You have sisters, don't you?"

"Yeah, I think I've seen Fuka a couple times, but her husband probably wouldn't let her stay with me night and day."

He sank into a moody silence as he pushed me, gently, past the curtain of my room.

I hesitated in the doorway to stare at the messy bed I'd climbed out of, hardly believing I'd been lying there as long as they said. I guessed it should bother me that my family hadn't been here when I woke up.

"What time is it?" I asked at last.

"Twenty-one hundred," Ide answered.

Reluctantly, I faced them, and I realized I did care that my family hadn't been here when I woke up, but I also hated the somber, worried looks Aizawa and Ide both wore.

"Sit down, Matsuda," Aizawa sighed, and frowned deeply at the arm I'd unbandaged. "You're really not supposed to be moving around."

I sank onto the bed and muttered, "Sorry for all the trouble." The two of them must be here because my family couldn't be bothered to come.

They exchanged a look, reflecting the exact same levels of gravity and worry back at each other, without saying a word. "It's no trouble," Ide assured me. "I guess we would have been here when you woke up, but we slipped down to visit Mogi for a moment."

"How is he?"

"Pulling through. He's awake, at least."

I tried to smile. "I'm glad."

Mogi didn't talk very much about his family, and I knew they lived outside of town, but, without a doubt, they'd come to see him. That was normal.

Insecurely, I met Aizawa's gaze. "You called my mom, right? She knows I'm here?"

"Yeah, of course. I called her the night you were admitted." A hint of sympathy touched his eyes. "She acted like she just couldn't stand to see you like this."

Nodding, I tried to smile again, but my mouth didn't seem like it worked that way anymore. "That sounds like Mom. She's convinced I'm going to die."

A blurry memory of dangling from the window, hardly able to understand what was happening, came back to me, followed immediately by the horrifying monologue Toyoshi gave and the heart-stopping image of Aizawa with a gun to his head.

"Are you okay?" I husked, lowering my gaze.

Equally serious, he nodded. "I'm fine."

"Taniki-tan?" I flashed a look up at Ide next.

He gave a flippant shrug. "Other than I apparently look like a dog wearing a cone."

My head sank into my hands and I shut my eyes, trying to block out the burning lights of the hospital. "I'm so sorry…about all of it."

A moment passed before either of them answered, and I knew they were trading another look of worry. It had always been amazing the way they communicated with so few words, but lately, it felt like all those furtive glances had to do with me.

"No one is blaming you for any of this," Ai murmured, at last. "It's not your fault."

"You always sound so sure."

Ide drawled, "Some people are messed up, that's all. And you wouldn't be a very good cop if you tried to take responsibility for every sicko you come across."

"He's right," Aizawa agreed. "Being a cop is tough enough without that shit."

Between victims you couldn't save, cases you couldn't solve, and watching your friends die, being a cop was more than tough. For the first time in my life, I saw what it was really like.

"So, I just shouldn't care," I whispered, feeling my eyes start to sting. "I should just shut my eyes and pretend none of that happened…and none of it was my fault."

After a pause, he murmured back, "Not any more than the three of us can ignore the fact that we could have prevented a lot of those deaths if we'd just handed you over in the first place."

Reluctantly, I looked up at them, wincing again, not sure how I could ever stop the hole growing inside me.

Ide grunted, "Even if we had, Reaper would have killed people. Even if you hadn't made some of those mistakes, he still would have killed people. That's what we're saying, Matsuda. He just wanted to kill people, same as Kira."

Inevitably, I looked down at my battered knuckles, remembering the way I'd beaten Toyoshi and how much I'd wanted to just beat him to death. "It's starting to look like I might be that way too."

"You?" Ide snorted again. "You're the furthest thing from it."

"Maybe, but…" I remembered Momo's petrified expression as I waved my gun in his face, and all Light's blood as I shot him again and again. Even when I shut my eyes, I could never make those images go away. "I'm darker than I realized."

"You're not deranged, Matsuda," Aizawa said immediately. "Everyone makes their own choices, their own mistakes, but you also get to decide what you're going to regret, what's going to hold you back, and what's going to keep you down."

He paused a moment, and then nudged me. "Hey."

I made myself meet his gaze.

His eyes blazed with confidence, and I knew he didn't doubt for a second what he was saying as he uttered, "You get to choose who you are."

For as long as I could remember, I'd been trying to choose my own path in life, even if it meant disappointing my parents or ignoring the doubts others had about me. But I was so spoiled, it had always felt easy to do whatever I wanted, constantly getting lucky, in the right place, at the right time. I'd never even imagined I'd one day have to face a dark side of myself.

On top of that, I'd gotten so caught up in whether or not people saw me as weak and stupid, I knew that, in my efforts to prove them wrong, it seemed like I'd just proved them right, again and again.

Maybe I would always regret some of what had happened, but I really didn't want to let any of this define my life.

Aizawa's eyebrows etched upward in an expectant look, and then he glanced back at Ide. "It's okay if you don't know how to figure all that out by yourself right now. That's what I was trying to tell you the other night. Not that something's wrong with you, just that maybe you need someone to help you sort it out."

I suppressed a groan. I guess he hadn't gotten off his tangent yet about how I needed to see a shrink.

Not sure what to say, I caught Ide's eye.

Immediately, he said, "This probably isn't the best time to talk about that, but, considering the nature of your trauma, they'll likely at least offer you a psyche eval before you're discharged." He shrugged. "Just think about it, Matsuda."

"'Kay," I mumbled.

"This job is tough, Matsu. For all of us." He punched Aizawa's shoulder, very, very lightly, probably so he wouldn't jostle his neck. "Even for this guy. Right, boss?"

Aizawa adjusted his wounded arm. "It's a bitch."

"I get it," I agreed, leaning back into the chemical pillow. "Thanks guys."

Neither of them looked convinced, and I didn't blame them, but what did they expect? No matter what they said, I knew neither of them went out of his way to get a psyche eval or to see a shrink.

As I shut my eyes, though, I realized it probably would be nice to tell all this terrible shit to someone. Even if they just wanted my money and didn't really care, it would feel good to say it all out loud.

More sincerely, I told them, "Maybe…I'll look into that."

Aizawa touched my shoulder, lightly, but said, in a gruff voice, "While you're at it, try to knock it off with the impulsive shenanigans. I need a break."

"Yeah," I agreed, faintly, "me too."

 **Aizawa**

 _A scream rings out, and then a loud crack, like the sound of something breaking. Everything shakes, until it feels like the world might split apart, and I can't stop it. In the darkness, I see horrible flashes, faces of people I love, appearing in the bright for a moment, and then vanishing again, passing out of reach. The pounding of my heart beats slower and slower, shutting down, and I can't make that stop either. I'm going to die, but it doesn't matter when everyone else is already dead._

 _Standing just to the side, a pale figure hovers in my peripheral vision, twisted and horrible, shifting so that, sometimes, it looks like the masked Reaper on the youthful body of Light Yagami, and sometimes it's the hideous face of Kira, deranged, like the last time I saw him before I died. Sometimes, it's hulking and twisted and deformed, like one of the shinigami. No matter how quickly I turn to face it full-on, it shifts out of sight, like a demon, but I always feel its glowing eyes on me, and get glimpses of its ghoulish smile and bloodied teeth. Its inhuman voice hisses, "You should have been on the winning side."_

 _"You mean the evil side." My voice echoes back at me. "No thanks.'_

 _"Yes." It flickers like a candle. "You've always been perfect. Now you're going to die. Good for you."_

 _There's a gun at my head. I feel its icy nose brushing against my hair, and the muzzle yawns. I can't breathe. I can only wait for the bang that will end my life._

 _"Can you live with it, Aizawa?" Kira asked. Tepid, corpse-reeking breath spills down my neck, and I know he's right beside me. "Can you live with knowing you let them all die?"_

 _I whip around, fists clenched, ready to pummel him, but he fades just out of sight again._

 _Psychotic laughter floods my head, and I see them again—not just my friends and my team, but the bodies of my wife and children as well, mutilated and drenched in vile crimson._

 _Screaming, I reach out for them._

 _The gun goes off, a small explosion right beside my ear; agonizing pain rips through my brain as my skull gets blown apart._

I jolted up in bed, thrashing against the blankets and choking back a shout, and then I sat staring into the dark, shuddering and clenching the bedding, surrounded by the sound of my ragged breathing.

 _Just a dream. Just a dream._

All the same, I groped around on the bed until I found a fragrant pile of Eriko's hair floating on my pillow, followed it down to her arm, and squeezed her wrist. For a long time, I focused on the strong feeling of her pulse, and then I wiped the cold sweat out of my eyes at last, leaning forward to rest my head on my knees. I tried to breathe deeply, but I couldn't eliminate the tightness in my chest.

Nearly a month had passed. Aside from an occasional twinge, my shoulder had almost completely healed. And yet it felt like I had different versions of the same nightmare every time I closed my eyes—a nightmare in which I'd let everyone I cared about down, and the last few moments of my own life were terrifying and painful.

Even with a thick cushion of leave between me and my new job as chief, I couldn't help but wonder if I'd ever fully recover, and I couldn't silence the nagging voice of doubt telling me I'd never be good enough for the position anyway.

I'd done my best to live around it, focusing on myself and spending time with my family, hiding the lingering tension in my heart. All the while, I wondered how long I could maintain.

Matsuda was learning, for the first time, just how hard this job really was, but he had no idea—and I didn't have the heart to tell him—that he'd been lucky that it had taken so long before shit hit the fan for him. Police work had chipped away at me over the last twenty years, and now I knew, better than ever before, that, eventually, it would break me.

Groaning, Eriko shifted beside me and then sat up too. I didn't have to see her face to know the worried look she gave me. "Everything all right?"

"Sure," I muttered.

After a pause, she issued a light sigh, and then leaned against my shoulder and slipped her arm around mine. I felt her fingertips glide down my muscle, and then up to the bullet wound.

"Want to talk about it?"

"There isn't anything to say."

Eriko squeezed my hand.

"I have to get up soon anyway." I jerked my chin at the clock on the night stand. "First day back. First real day as the boss."

"You could take more time, if you wanted."

"I'm fine."

"So you say," she murmured, nuzzling me. "I've just gotten used to you being home."

I looked down into her face. In the dimmest of light, I could just make out the shine of her eyes and the sculpted shape of her mouth. This last month of being near her every day had been just like heaven, each moment drenched in her presence. I fell asleep with her in my arms and woke up in hers, hypnotized by the sound of her voice, drunk on the taste of her lips, overwhelmingly in love.

In some ways, I'd gotten a second chance with her, and it scared me to think of wasting it, and at the same time, seeing her and the kids every day reminded me that I'd fought as hard as I had because this was a world worth fighting for, and the battle hadn't ended yet.

Lightly, I kissed her brow.

"My good man," she whispered. "You don't know how much I hate sharing you with everyone else."

I agreed, "You hide it well."

Eriko pulled me back down next to her, gently, and I tucked the blankets up around our necks. Slowly, my heart rate began to ease back to a normal pace.

Arms around me, she snuggled closer. I memorized her shape with my hands.

"You do too," she said, finally. "Much, much too well."

"What choice do I have?"

"I don't know." She pressed all the closer. "I just hope you know I'm here for you."

I did know that, and mostly everything was intact, with Mogi on the mend and the other two coming back to work with me. As far as I knew, Director Boko had conducted a thorough investigation into the department after Oshima's betrayal. In theory, I should be able to go back to work and get right on track.

Accordingly, in the morning I found myself heading into the station, coffee in hand, ignoring the surreal feeling of returning to my routine as if nothing had happened.

I parked in my new, designated spot and went upstairs to find my new office and my secretary—an ancient fixture of the department—who told me some of the men had put together some kind of party in the break room.

One hand resting on the smooth surface of my huge desk, I stared out at the city, feeling like I was having a dream.

Me. Chief. Not only had I never expected it, it seemed like it couldn't possibly last long. I seriously doubted it was worth the sacrifices I'd put into it.

I took my time to unpack the few personal items I'd brought, and then I reluctantly made my way to the break room. I'd never relished being the center of attention, and finding a bunch of my colleagues—now subordinates—gathered under a banner than said Welcome Back Chief, congratulating me and making a fuss was more embarrassing than anything. Considering the way the case had gone, I was surprised to find so many people who supported my promotion, and I found myself obsessing over who might be sincere and who was an ass-kisser, and if there was any way to weed out the ones I couldn't trust.

Plenty of people were missing, of course—dead—which dampened the atmosphere. From the look in most people's faces, everyone was fully aware of all the comrades we'd lost.

All the same, Ide and Matsuda made a ton of noise together. They denied it, but I knew this was their idea. Matsuda probably actually thought it was a cool thing to do, but I knew Ide was just screwing with me. They joked and teased, relentlessly, and kept muttering into my punch, "This is your last chance to treat me like I'm one of you; tomorrow, you'll both get yourselves suspended."

They just laughed at that too.

Sadly, I realized my days of being one of them were over suddenly. I'd be smart not to play favorites.

I did my best to balance my time and talk to everyone in the room before grabbing a slice of cake and hurrying back to my office, and, at least, I thought, it was good to have that sanctity.

Quietly, I picked at my cake and watched the sunshine pour through the sakura trees below me, thinking about where to start. Cleaning up the squad and eliminating people who weren't really loyal to me seemed like the first order of business, which would mean I'd have make some new hires. Crime rates had dropped again, and, hopefully, soon, people would accept that Kira was gone for good, and the world would return to normal.

Meanwhile, there were still loose ends to the Reaper case, and, most importantly, I needed to see to it that the Shinigami syndicate got eradicated, quickly, quietly, and efficiently.

I'd like to handle that in person, seeing how it had so much to do with the Kira case and directly involved the four of us, but I imagined I wouldn't be able to. I'd put Ide on it for starters, and, when Mogi came back, he could help.

Matsuda should be kept away from that, especially since any remnants of Toyoshi's men still might want to kill him, but I knew better than to shuffle him to the side and ignore his discontent. I'd have to keep him occupied, give him a challenge, so he wouldn't whine, a project that might keep him out of trouble.

First, though, I needed to make sure I understood his condition and gauge accordingly what he could and couldn't handle.

I abandoned my cake and stalked across the office to throw open my door, and call, "Matsuda, get in here."

Everyone stared at me. I guess I'd never seen Soichiro scream across the whole squad room. What was I supposed to do? Send out a written invitation?

Half-annoyed, half-embarrassed, I went back to my chair and faced the window again. This would really take some getting used to.

In a moment, I heard a chipper knock, and Matsuda's cheerful voice sang out, "What's up, Chief? Man! I can finally call you that without you getting all bent about it!"

"Come in and shut the door," I ordered, turning to him.

Distractedly, he obeyed, jaunting over to the window immediately. "Woah! Look at your view! Corner office? Lucky! And it's spring time! You get to watch everything turn green!"

"I'm sure I'll have other things to do than sit here and watch the trees."

"Yeah, but you're the boss now," he teased, grinning at me over his shoulder. "You can just make someone else do all your work for you."

Light shone out of his eyes, the way it used to, and his spirits were flying high, his positive energy simultaneously exhausting and comforting, like always.

"So…it seems like you're back to normal," I ventured.

As much as I might want to, I couldn't quite trust it, and I assumed he must be faking at least a little.

"Leave helped." He took the liberty of perching on the edge of my desk, playing with my paperweight. "I even had enough time to clean my whole apartment. I found things I hadn't seen in months!"

"Good." In addition to faking, he was probably babbling about inane things to try and avoid whatever I'd called him in here for. That was normal. I decided to try and start out gently. "Did you call your mother?"

"Well," he chirped, "I called my sister, Fuka, and she called our older sister Hana, and I think Hana probably called Mom, or told her the next time she saw her. They see each other a lot, since Hana brings Mom groceries and helps take care of her house. My dad's not around. And Mom always says she doesn't want me there, breaking things and making a lot of noise and asking her to cook for me." He rubbed his neck and laughed like it was all just the silliest thing he could think of.

"So, no. Essentially. How could you not call your mother? You almost died, Matsuda."

"Oh." He gave a flippant shrug. "I just didn't want to hear the shoulda been a florist, Touta routine." Laughing again, he mimicked, " _Touta_ , florists never get thrown out of buildings!"

My heart froze at the image of him suspended in mid-air above twenty stories of darkness, and I drew a sharp breath.

"She wouldn't believe me even if I told her that cops normally don't either. Maybe you could talk to her about it." He stuck his tongue out at me. "Chief."

After I'd called her to let her know he'd been admitted to the hospital, and that he was unconscious, I'd resolved to never speak to her again, if I could help it. Yes, she'd cried and seemed genuinely upset, but she'd also professed that she didn't understand why he couldn't stay out of trouble—as if all of it was his own fault—and she'd told me, candidly, that she had no intention of coming to, as she put it, watch her suekko die. I'd ended the call, angry at how selfish and pathetic she seemed, nothing at all like him.

To change the subject, I asked, "What about Sayu?"

Matsuda cocked his head to fix a curious look on me, murmuring, "Sayu," as if he barely knew who I was talking about. "I haven't heard from her. Is this what you called me in here for?"

I guessed, if he'd question my motives out loud, I must have struck a nerve.

"Have you tried calling her?"

Silent a long moment, Matsuda bounced the paperweight between his hands, but didn't take his eyes off me, and I knew he was deciding how to react. "Why would I do that?"

"You obviously care about her."

He tossed the paperweight, and I watched it fly, nervously, but he caught it expertly. "She hates me," he pointed out. And then the old shadows threatened to cloud his expression again. "We can't tell anyone about the notebook, not just because I had a crush once on some girl."

His glib tone insisted Sayu didn't matter, but I faced the window, sadly reflecting on the last time I'd seen them really together, emerging from Yama's in the gray light of dawn, holding hands in the middle of the road: two idiots with not a shred of common sense between them. Even at a distance, watching how they'd stared into one another's eyes, I'd seen plainly how much Matsuda had loved her; maybe he had only in that moment, or maybe he had since the night I found her sobbing into his chest at the scene of Misa Amane's suicide. All too well, I remembered how strong that feeling could be, especially in youth, and I didn't believe, even for a second, that she was just some girl to him.

"Anyway." Matsuda slid of the desk, smiling again. "I have work to do, Chief, but Ide and I are planning to visit Mogi after work, and we might grab a beer. You should come. If you're still allowed."

I tried not to feel annoyed by his flippancy, and I had to remind myself that this was much better than the black Matsuda who'd screamed obscenities in my face at the hospital.

Matsuda must really want to get away from me, because he was halfway out the door, and I hadn't even given my response yet. "Ide might bring Kei, so I hope that doesn't bother you. Lately, they go everywhere together."

"Hey, hey." I stood up. "I'm not done with you."

He shot a glance back. "What else is there?"

"You've got my paperweight, for one thing."

He looked at it, seemingly having forgotten that he held it.

"And, for another, I'm the chief. I say when you can go, Sergeant."

"Sergeant?" He faced me, wide-eyed. "Oh, man! I forgot you promoted me!"

Heaving a sigh, I rubbed the bridge of my nose. "Sit down, okay?"

Matsuda sauntered across the room to take the seat across from me and resumed playing with my paperweight, but the way his leg bounced showed me, he was nervous.

Because of that, I took a moment to choose my words carefully.

For the most part, he did look normal, hair neat and trimmed, suit pressed, moving with that old spring in his step, so it could be he was simply much more resilient than I'd expected.

Still, I searched his eyes, remembering the way he'd shot Toyoshi—lightning quick, dead-on—and how he'd screamed as he hammered on him, determined to smash his brains in with his bare fists. That version of Matsuda saved my life, and yet, that was the side of Matsuda I couldn't trust. I needed to know for sure if he lurked past the blithe gaze, and how close to the surface he lingered.

I told myself if I saw any sign of him, I'd make Matsuda take more time off.

His hazelnut eyes looked clear, but the smile seemed insincere.

At last, quietly, I asked, "Are you actually better? Or are you just assuming this is the way I want you to act?"

Slightly, his smile slipped, and his eyebrows slanted downward in confusion. I thought he'd fumble through a polite lie designed to ease my misgivings, but he just muttered, "Both, I guess."

"I don't want you to fake being happy for my sake."

"Yeah." At last, he slammed the paperweight onto the desk again, let his chin dip into his hand, and gazed out the window a long time. "I am better," he decided. "You have no idea how fucked up I was."

I'd come to realize that cussing me out in the hospital, raving about killing Light, furious with himself and everyone else, had only been the tip of the iceberg, and when he'd hammered on Toyoshi, hysterically screaming and half-sobbing about how it was too much, I'd finally fully understood just how far he'd fallen and how honestly hurt he was.

Though I'd tried to be compassionate and understanding, I'd misunderstood his actions, or else hadn't grasped them at all. If I could go back in time, I'd restructure my investigation just so Matsuda wouldn't fall into that crack of feeling inadequate and powerless, help him find some purpose, show him less severity and offer a little more camaraderie.

It would have been a challenge, without a doubt, to give up some of my control, especially with his life at risk, and it would have required locating a side of me I didn't feel fully in touch with—a softer side—but at least it might have kept him from fracturing entirely.

From now on, I'd watch myself. I never wanted to made that mistake with him again.

"I need to know you're past some of that," I told him, finally.

Matsuda sat up in his seat, announcing, all too casually, "I started seeing a therapist, just like you wanted."

At this point, I couldn't tell if he was missing the mark on purpose or not. "That really isn't my business. I'm your boss now."

"Yeah, but it was your idea."

"It wasn't, actually.

Again, he studied me, and shrugged again. "Okay, then, I'm not sure what you're looking for. I am better…" He touched his forearm, where the k was carved forever. "But…I don't think I'll ever really be Touta Matsuda again. I—"

It was such an overwhelmingly hopeless projection, I couldn't help interrupting, "I just need to know if you can do your job." And then immediately kicked myself.

Obviously hurt, he stared at me. "Oh. Well… Of course, Sir. I'll do my best."

Finding the balance with him would be really hard.

My feelings got the better of me. "What I mean is, if you need more time off, that's my responsibility now." I looked seriously at him. "That case was tough on you, and if there's something I can do to help you, you just have to let me know."

"Thanks," he grunted, still sounding sour. "Chief."

So far, my resolution to manage him better didn't seem to be going well.

"Hey." I leaned forward, catching his eye. "As long as I've known you, you've wanted to be part of the team. Well, now you're part of my team, Matsu, and if I didn't want you on my squad, we definitely wouldn't be having this conversation at all."

Storm clouds rolling over fast, his gaze lightened.

"You have a problem, though, with understanding that teams go both ways. I've never noticed that you take issue with helping—you're always trying to help—but you don't seem to realize the team is here to back you up."

"Like all for one and one for all," he muttered.

"Yeah. There's no reason for you to feel like you have to work alone, or protect the team all by yourself, or assume that I don't have your six. No matter what's going on, no matter what the reason is, I have your six."

Sighing, Matsuda looked away again. "I know I did a lot of stupid stuff and put everyone at risk. I let my issues interfere, and I know that's why you didn't want me on the investigation. I wish I'd listened to you."

"So do I."

"But I'm not going to do that anymore." Eagerly, he faced me. "I do want to be part of the squad. And I do want to work hard. For you. I appreciate what you're saying, and I don't feel perfect, but I feel good enough to move on."

"That's all I was asking." I stood up. "Good, then. Thank you, Sergeant."

He got up, a little slowly, still frowning, and bowed. "I really needed, you, Ai," he blurted out, suddenly. "I know I wouldn't be alive right now if it weren't for you."

It caught me off guard, and a moment passed before I managed to respond. "Same to you."

"No, I mean…" Shyly, he met my gaze again. "After everything that happened with Light, all that stuff with Sayu, and everything else…" He rubbed his scarred arm again. "If you hadn't been there to tell me the truth and try to keep me in line… I mean, I get that you're not great at being delicate. That's okay. Sometimes, now, I think that if you hadn't been like that, I would have drowned in it all." Face flushing slightly, he bowed again. "So, thanks."

"Touta," I sighed, and went around the desk to his side. "You don't have to thank me like that's some favor I did you. I was just doing the best I could, like you, and…" I had to pause before muttering, "Kiddo, you're my friend. I…I care about you."

Quieter than before, his smile returned.

"In the end, I'm lucky you were there too," I told him, touching my gunshot shoulder. "You're really damn good with that gun."

At last, he chuckled. "Yeah. Yeah, I am."

 **Mogi**

Weeks passed of being in the hospital; plenty of people sent me flowers or came to visit—even some people I hadn't seen in a long time—including Matsuda, who apologized over and over for what had happened to me and then yammered excitedly about his version of how the case had ended, how he'd infiltrated the Reaper's hideout, saved Aizawa, and ultimately, the day. Later, Aizawa came to give me what he called, the real version of the story, and then mentioned, casually, that he'd been made chief after all, and that he had a promotion with my name on it.

When I told him I wasn't sure I wanted it, he stared confounded at me, silently demanding an explanation, but I couldn't give him one. Not just then.

Despite surviving what should have been a fatal attack, despite knowing my friends were okay, and despite the well-wishing of others, I felt myself beginning to sink into a depression, and all the flowers in the world couldn't cheer me up.

Firstly, I hadn't been there through the end of the case as I'd planned to be, but also, after such a long time of being incapacitated, I began to fear that I had missed my opportunity to join Near, which left me not knowing what to do.

Through my friends' visits over time, I observed that they all seemed determined to move on; Aizawa was taking his role as chief very seriously, never able to stay long, but actively keeping me apprised of the goings on at the station, as if he genuinely expected me to accept the promotion in time. Matsuda looked a little brighter each time I saw him, slowly leaving the dark things behind, and the other two both agreed they thought he'd more or less be okay. Surprisingly enough, Ide and Kei seemed to have started dating right after the case ended; since they'd started working together, I'd noticed them getting closer and closer, but I hadn't expected them to do anything so official. In any case, they laughed and held hands a lot. It was, I thought, the happiest I'd ever seen Ide, and Aizawa confirmed, with subtle contentment, that he thought so too.

As pleased as I felt for all of them, watching them begin anew left me wondering what there was for me to look forward to.

Aizawa's report of Yoko's suicide hit me hard, and for days I wallowed in the loss, thinking that her death and the commissioner's traitorous maneuvers were merely one more reason I could never go back to the NPA.

But, God, I wished I could have helped her; I didn't know how I might have been able to, but maybe if I'd known about her situation, there might have been some way to intervene. I kicked myself for not noticing the signs, and I felt angry that I'd been incapacitated when she shot herself.

Getting out of the hospital held no relief or excitement for me. With my injuries, I couldn't go back to police work immediately even if I wanted to, and the days turned long and dreary, spent cooped up in my house week after week. Even though my friends and family did their best to help me, I spent much of my time alone, working a lot in my garden and half-heartedly wishing to go back in time just one year and salvage some of the things robbed from me; not just Misa, Soichiro, Light, and Yoko, but the bright future I'd once believed I had.

On a chilly Saturday, Aizawa, Ide, and Matsuda stopped by, all smiles and good cheer, insisting I get out of the house, confident I'd recovered enough to go out for a beer or two, but I knew what they were really doing; we'd done the same thing to Matsuda right after the Kira case ended, endeavoring to snap him out of his funk and trying to decipher the true nature of his condition.

Politely, I entertained them a little while, and then asked them to leave.

Herding the other two out in front of him, Aizawa stopped at the door to look sternly into my eyes. "You'll be able to come back to work next week. Have you made up your mind about the promotion?"

Not in the mood for his indelicacy, I asked, "Why are you pressuring me about it?"

"I'm just trying to understand why you don't want it."

"I'm not sure I'm coming back to the NPA at all," I told him, after a pause. "I had planned on trying to join L."

His eyes widened, and I wondered at the fact that Ide had never mentioned it to him. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"All things considered, I never noticed an appropriate time."

Slowly nodding and still studying my face, he asked, "Well…are you going to?"

I took a long gaze out the window at the blooming trees. "I don't know if I can anymore."

He didn't seem to have any more questions, but he left my house with a troubled look on his face.

When I went to bed that night, my reality seemed harsher than ever; my wounds bothered me, and every time I closed my eyes, the bullets that had nearly stolen my life seemed to tear through me again. I tossed and turned, wondering if maybe my life as an investigator really was over for good.

Early in the morning, I awoke to a phone call. I didn't recognize the number, but when I answered, Near's serene voice said, "Mr. Mogi. It's been a long time since I've heard from you. I hope you didn't lose that phone number Restor gave you."

Still groggy, I sat up, wincing and blinking at the gray light. "No… I have it. I've just been…"

He waited for me to finish before going on, "I have good news. Your chief and I spoke—we've agreed that both our organizations will benefit from staying in better contact as the world continues to recover from the Kira incident. This includes sharing pertinent information, and at his suggestion, operatives."

"My chief?" I mumbled, sliding out of bed to try and get my blood pumping. I limped to the bathroom, thinking I'd splash cold water on my face.

"He seems to think our organization would greatly benefit from having you on board. So, if you're still interested, I'd like to revisit the idea."

In my bathroom, I stared in the mirror at the wound marring my abdomen, a half-healed, ugly, pink crater. Reliving that pain and terror, my heart began to pound. "Near…" I sputtered. "I-I don't know if Aizawa made my situation clear… I don't even know why he'd contact you."

"He mentioned that your experience on the last case may be deterring you, but he also seems to think you'll excel at organizing data and searching for clues. He assured me your efficiency in such matters gained even the approval of my predecessor."

Aizawa had remembered how pleased the original L had been with my investigative abilities; he must have thought a personal recommendation might help push me over this obstacle.

 _That proactive nature…is what makes you the boss._

I had to consider that if I did leave, not only would I never work with him, Ide, and Matsuda again, I might not see them, possibly, for the rest of my life. Just like my other friends and my family.

Near went on, "Assuming you're still interested, arrangements have already been made to bring you to our location here in the US. You have only to pick up your ticket at the Haneda airport on Monday evening at four o'clock."

That was only a day away, but Near hung up without giving me time to respond, and then I spent the next few hours sipping coffee and weighing my options before getting up to pack.

On Monday morning, I walked into the station for the last time, moving slowly and looking around, taking it all in and reflecting on the years of my life I'd spent there. Things looked better, I thought—the windows and floors were clean, and the burned out bulbs had been replaced throughout the hallway, there were a plenty of new faces, and everyone buzzed with activity, welcoming me back.

I only told the officers I'd known the longest and trusted that I wasn't staying.

In the break room, I found Ide and Matsuda hanging around the coffee pot, Ide carefully measuring creamer into his mug while Matsuda chatted.

"I'm just saying, it feels like I'm doing the work of three or four people."

Ide snorted, "So now you know not to complain—ever again—about not having something to do."

"I wasn't complaining! I just told him—"

"Just told him he doesn't take you seriously. Well, now he does. Congratulations."

Matsuda gave an exaggeratedly tragic sigh, but I noticed his lips threatening to turn up in a satisfied smirk, so either he was subtly bragging about his new responsibilities, or he was just having a good time pestering Ide. Assumedly, both.

I cleared my throat, and they both looked up.

"Mogi!" Matsuda's eyes brightened. "You're back!"

"For now," Ide amended, stirring his coffee and lighting a cigarette.

Matsuda hurried to my side, still bubbling away. "They told me you weren't coming back until Friday. That's cool, though. Things are rough around here—Aizawa's a slave driver, and Ide's no help. Maybe you can take some of my work load—I have _so_ much to do. I was just telling Ide it's like the boss slammed me with the biggest, toughest case he could find!"

I couldn't help laughing and tousling his hair. I would miss the little nut.

In surprise, he blinked up at me in, and then, expression turning mildly annoyed, fixed his hair. "Okay. That was a little condescending."

"Just keep up the good work, Matsu," I said.

Gravely, Ide asked, "So, you're really going, huh?"

"Yes. I'm leaving tonight."

He nodded and sipped from his mug. "Well, it'll be strange without you. I'm not sure I can keep Aizawa and Matsuda from making each other crazy, but I'll do my best."

"They'll figure it out," I said with a grin. "Just keep your girl happy."

At the thought of her, a gentle smile crossed his lips. "Take care of yourself, Kanzo."

"Wait a minute." Matsuda glanced between us. "Where's Mogi going?"

Ide rolled his eyes. "Don't you pay attention at all? He's going to work with L."

"What? You are?" His mouth fell open. "Nobody told me!"

"I told you," Ide muttered. "Twice."

"Yeah, but I didn't think you were serious!"

"It's only recently been decided," I explained. "You know how L is."

"Yeah," Ide snorted. "Good luck with that." And then he offered me his hand, saying more seriously, "I mean it. Good luck."

I shook his hand. "It's been an honor working with you. Both of you."

Gradually, I faced the door, where Aizawa stood, jacket off, hands in his pockets, staring me down in his contemplative way.

Automatically, I bowed. "Thank you, Chief."

"You don't have to thank me," he said quietly. "You deserve it."

I reached into my jacket to pull out the letter of resignation I'd typed last night. "This is for you."

Immediately, he crumpled it up, dunking it into the nearby trash can, and to my puzzled look, he explained, "You can always come back, Mogi."

"I'm pretty sure that's not protocol," Ide teased, dryly.

"Wait. So…" Matsuda asked, softer. "This is really happening? Seriously?"

"We all have to move on," I told him.

Thoughtfully, he studied his shoes, and then suddenly grinned up at me and extended his fist. "All right! Well, good luck, Mogi!"

Chuckling, I slammed my fist into his. "Look after these tough guys for me."

He smirked, and I checked my watch.

"Better get going," Aizawa advised. "Airport security is murder."

"Right." Still I lingered, looking them over, my anticipation conflicting with how much I was going to miss all three of them.

"Until next time." Ide pounded me on the back.

"Next time," I agreed, starting up the hallway again.

When I'd nearly reached the elevator, Matsuda shouted my name down the hallway, and everyone around me paused to stare at him and grumble about it.

I turned back to see all three of them still standing there together, watching me leave.

Matsu waved his hand high over his head. "Send me a postcard!"

"I will!"

And then I went downstairs and caught a cab to Haneda, and set out, taking with me only what little I'd need to start a new life.

Matsuda

Watching the others day in and day out, I sometimes wondered if none of that had happened—they acted, in a way, like it hadn't—but I'd also come to realize they were way better than me at pretending things were fine.

Mogi leaving reminded me how much thing had changed, though, and in a way, how much had been lost. Sometimes, I still woke up from a nightmare, and a lot of times, I still felt depressed, but the guys were noticeably more at ease if I stayed in a good mood. Any time I got down, both started to hover. I tried to stay positive.

It would all be okay, I convinced myself of that, at least, and then, partly so Aizawa would shut his mouth about it, I made weekly appointments with my therapist, which wasn't as bad as I'd imagined. It gave me perspective.

When I felt that I'd gotten back on my feet, I started getting out more, the way I had before the Kira case, connecting with old friends, and, eventually, my family.

I didn't really want to see any of them since it felt like they'd all looked the other way when I'd almost died, but my doctor said it might give me a sense of control, at least, and help me make more sense of what I really wanted out of my relationships. It was good to see my sister, Fuka, but Hana acted like she didn't have time to entertain me. When I visited my mother, she did nothing but nag, refusing to so much as approach the topic of what had happened to me. I guessed that was better than dealing with her 'told you so' routine.

I dated a few girls, but none of them quite fit. Mostly, I found myself focusing really hard at work. After the last two cases, everything seemed comparatively easy, and that made me feel like I could at least be a decent investigator.

More than anything, I just wanted to pay attention to the present.

Several weeks after Mogi left, Aizawa called me into his office, sat back in his chair and looked me over in a hard, analytical way. I figured he was trying to decide, again, if I was really doing better, so I started rehearsing what I wanted to tell him to keep him off my case.

"I'm thinking of moving you into the narcotics unit. Drugs have gotten out of hand since a certain god had no way of stopping criminals who never showed their faces."

"That makes sense," I muttered, even though I'd really hoped he might move me into homicide to work with Ide. "Good plan, Boss."

"There's a lot of undercover work involved," he warned.

"Wait…" I focused harder on his expression, wondering if I might have heard him wrong. "You want me to go undercover?"

With a deep sigh, Aizawa gazed out his window. "Well, want is a strong word. But, yes. I think you'd be good at it."

My heart leapt at those words. I'd really stared thinking Aizawa would want to keep me at a desk for the rest of his career, and I would have settled for suicide cases if it got me out on the street. Undercover work though.

I couldn't help the grin that suddenly curled my mouth, but the expression seemed to unsettle him, and he even scowled.

"Let me make something clear, Sergeant—it makes me nervous given your track record— _if_ I assign you to an undercover operation, I expect you to do things by the books."

"I can do things by the books," I assured him. My pulse had started racing with the excitement.

Aizawa looked skeptical. "You have no idea how much I doubt that."

"I can! You'll see." I gave him a thumbs up.

But he rubbed his forehead. "I feel like I'm not explaining this very well."

"No. I get it."

"I mean, I would feel a million times better if you parked at that desk right there," he jerked his chin at the desk nearest to his door, "and never left it. But. You suck at that."

"I get it," I insisted. I felt like I was floating. Me. An undercover cop. As a kid, that's what I always dreamed about: cruising town in my personal car, dressing down, meeting a lot of people, and going on action-packed adventures, but, through the hardships, I'd almost forgotten the ambition. Images of suave villains and high-tech gadgets filled my mind, more vividly than I'd seen them in almost a decade. "I could be like the next 007!"

Heaving another, deeper sigh, Aizawa sat back and pinched the bridge of his nose. "I want you to do some training first."

"Of course! I was waiting for that way back before Kira came along, but I maybe Chief Yagami didn't think I was ready. Or maybe everyone was ignoring me. Anyway, it's probably good—I think I'm ready now that I have some experience. I mean—"

"Would you calm down? You don't have to convince me, Matsuda. It was my idea."

"Yeah, but, I'm just saying, I think most of the guys I started out with in the academy already went through undercover training, like, seven years ago. I guess I didn't really have time—"

"Matsuda, please." He held his hand up. "Let me finish."

I laughed. It had been a long time since I'd felt this excited. "I'll bet you almost forgot that I can talk circles around you, huh?"

"I didn't forget," he assured me. "Now shut up and settle down."

Excitement threatened to burst out of me now; I realized I was bouncing both my legs, and I'd picked up his paperweight again, without really noticing. I thrust it away and tried to sit still, but I couldn't quite wipe the grin off my face.

"You'll have a partner," Aizawa told me, when I'd been silent a few moments, "And—"

"Who? Somebody I've already worked with? Do I get to pick? I really like Kaneko, but—"

"Hush," he snapped. "No. I'm picking. And I promise it won't be anybody you would choose, because the last thing I need is for you and some dumb ass like Kaneko to go out causing trouble."

"Oh, yeah, that makes sense. Kaneko is kinda wild."

"Yes." Aizawa drew the deepest breath yet. "I'm aware. I need to know someone is keeping your ass in line. Not encouraging your bad behavior."

"You don't have to worry," I insisted. "I won't let you down."

"It's not about letting me down," Aizawa said, all the more firmly, and met my gaze. His tone dropped. "It's dangerous, Matsuda. If anybody's _not_ coming home, it's an undercover agent who made a wrong move."

Sobered by the statement, I watched him a moment. "You really don't like the idea, do you?"

"Not at all. But that's my problem, and it's not a good reason to pen you up here for the rest of your career."

That would be hard, I thought, putting his personal concerns aside to do something strictly to help my career. "You really think I'd be good at it," I murmured, somewhat awed.

Uncomfortably, he nodded. "Yeah. You could probably even be great at it if you stop goofing around."

The full-force of what all this meant hit me suddenly, and I sat back in my seat, fidgeting with my tie. If I messed up, he would look really bad, and I wasn't sure I knew how to stop goofing off.

After waiting a moment, he told me, "You can think about it for a few days, if you need to."

"No." I got up. "I want to do it."

"I know." He sighed again, disappointed almost.

"It's hard for you, huh? Being my chief."

Aizawa frowned. I thought he'd deny it, but he muttered, "Not a day goes by I don't think about transferring you the hell away from me."

Even though I didn't understand exactly why he felt that way, I knew I would hate that, and it made me all the more determined to do this right.

I gave a bow and struggled to sound professional. "I'll do my best. Thank you for the opportunity. Sir."

Gravely, he answered, "You deserve it, Matsuda."

That night, I took a long walk, energized by the idea of working undercover, the next big step in my career, and fantasizing about how great that could be. I'd done something right, after all, to make Aizawa think I could be good at something so difficult. I couldn't blame him for being wary after some of the crazy things I'd done during the Reaper case, but I'd show him. After a case or two, he'd see everything was going to be all right, and he'd relax.

Especially if he gave me some hard-nose for a partner. I could work with that. After being with Aizawa and Ide so much, I seriously doubted anybody else on the squad could faze me.

Unexpectedly, I thought, _Nobody will ever be as great as my first undercover partner though…_

It stopped me in my tracks. I'd done everything I could lately not to think about Sayu—I wouldn't even talk about her to my therapist—because I knew that, once she as in my head, and I fully realized just how much I missed her, I'd never be able to shake her off again.

Aizawa and Ide had both asked me about her in the last few weeks—Aizawa had asked several times—it was getting hard not to lose patience with that. They didn't get it. I'd lost her so utterly, with no real chance of ever keeping her in the first place, I had to keep shutting her out every time she entered my mind, like dousing a light.

To think of her the night I'd found out about Miyami and the shotgun, so beautiful and smart, and brave, made my chest glow with warmth.

Chiming through my mind, her voice called my name, and I almost thought I could feel her hand in mind, small and soft. All too easily, I remembered the way it felt to have her pressed against me or to have her mouth on mine. With a sad smile, I looked back at the night we'd tried to set up Atashi Rei—two idiots who didn't have a clue what they were doing—and how smitten I'd felt with her, how hard I'd had to try to not stare at her.

The best memory was still the afternoon she'd brought Aizawa and me lunch, and how she'd pressed her cool juice box to my black eye and kissed it when nobody was looking.

 _I can't even pinpoint the moment I fell in love with you. It just feels like I always have._

Unable to help it, I got out my phone and found the selfie we'd taken together that day, both of us smiling with our broken eyes, sky hazy with dark smoke.

It looked like a picture from a date, but like with all the memories I had of Sayu, it coincided with a terrible moment; Atashi Rei, Miyami, and Chiba were all dead. We'd just been faking a relationship to try and prevent a catastrophe and protect people we loved. There'd never been a chance, really. Not a chance at all. And making my way through any of it, from the night I walked her home to Misa's suicide, to the day she ran away from me outside of Yama's, screaming that she hated me, always led me back around to just how much it really hurt.

My thumb lingered over the delete button, but what was the point? It wasn't as if I could completely wipe Sayu from my mind. Every time my mother asked me, now, why I hadn't found a girlfriend yet, any time I saw couples holding hands, even watching Ide and Kei flirt outside of work, brought her back to me, like a ghost.

 _I'll always have that._

Turning my phone off, I stuffed it away and looked up again, only to stop hard.

Whether it had to do with my thoughts, or if it was just a route I was familiar with, I'd wandered into Light's old neighborhood and now stood across the street from his apartment.

For a long time, I stood there, staring up at it and picking out the right window. Lights were on, silhouettes of people drifted past the curtains.

I could never go back there either. So much had happened, so many memories lingered in every room. Wishing Light and Misa still lived there, that I could go up and drop in, just to say hello, was just as pointless as wishing I could have kept Sayu.

Finally, I turned to go, thinking I really should head home and tune out a while so these thoughts wouldn't yank me back into an ugly depression.

I stopped.

Halfway up the block, a woman stood gazing at the apartment as well.

My breath hitched. It was only because I was thinking about her, but she looked exactly like Sayu—chocolate hair rustling in the breeze, dressed in men's clothes, and it was her form.

In a second, she turned toward me, strolling slowly, hands in her pockets.

My eyes started to sting.

 _How can I ever forget you if I'm going to keep seeing you everywhere I go?_

Like a creep, I stared at her. The way she carried herself reminded me of Sayu too—the same walk, very stiff, like she wanted to disguise the natural swing of her hips and chest, glancing occasionally, nervously, over her shoulder, like she was on the lookout for danger. Sometimes, she pulled at her necklace.

As she drew nearer, her eyes focused on mine, and then, gradually, her face emerged from the shadows. I recognized her nose and chin.

Torn, I lurched, wanting to run to her, wanting to run _from_ her, mind racing with what I should say if we actually met here like this, but all words became meaningless as she closed the gap between us and stopped, just a little out of reach.

Quietly, we stared into each other's eyes. I tried to make sense of hers, and she blinked. Gently, her frowning lips parted. It came back to me, again, all too hard, how she'd jerked away from me and said she hated me.

I took a step back, lowering my gaze so she wouldn't see how hard I was trying not to cry.

"Hey," she husked.

Unable to speak, I jerked my head.

"Um." She paused. I knew I was being rude. "I didn't know you'd be here. I just like to walk by, sometimes…"

"I didn't mean to come here at all," I croaked, and then winced, because she thought I'd killed him. In any realistic world, I still had.

More silence. I tried to decide if it would be more idiotic to say more or to walk away without another word. Whatever I did, I could not look at her. Staring into her face, remembering a time when she'd almost been mine, was the worst option.

"Excuse me, Yagami-san." Quickly, I turned away. No point in going undercover, after all. I was still just a coward. Tomorrow, I'd tell Aizawa to forget it.

Gently, her hand touched my arm. "Matsuda-san…?"

Hearing her use my name with any shred of respect stopped me cold, but it must only be habit.

Unable to look at her, I lingered.

"Don't go," she whispered.

I drew a quivering breath. My throat had started hurting. "What?"

"Well… I heard you guys solved the case." It sounded like she was struggling to sound normal. Cheerful, even. "I'm glad."

"Yes." We wouldn't be Japanese if we couldn't at least try to be polite. "We couldn't have done it without your help."

"And…and I'm glad…you're okay…"

"Don't…say that to me," I moaned, letting my head sink. "Please?"

Sayu stood near me, silent a long time. "I am, though, Touta. And I'm sorry I didn't stick with you to the end, like I said I would."

"That's okay."

"No." Her voice hitched, like she wanted to cry. "No, it's not."

Reluctantly, I looked over my shoulder at her. She had her face turned away.

Her lips trembled. "I'm sorry."

"I'm the one who's sorry," I whispered.

"Yes, but…" Voice cracking, she paused, and then went on, slower, "but you apologized already, and I couldn't forgive you. I walked out on you."

Finally, I turned back to her. "I don't expect you to forgive me for what I did. I understand."

Sayu shook her head and sighed, and then met my gaze again, eyes shining like gems with tears, pink lips frowning all the more. "I know you didn't kill Light," she whispered."

I shifted, uncertain of what to say. I'd lied to her about it once, and the consequences cut so deeply, I didn't know if I could bear to do that to both of us again.

"I know," she drew a deep breath, composing herself, but a tear ran down her cheek. "I know about the notebook. I know about the Shinigami. Ryuuk."

My mouth fell open. "What are you talking about? I—"

"Aizawa-san told me," she interrupted.

Everything I wanted to say got lost, but I couldn't close my mouth. He wouldn't. Not in a million years.

Nodding like I'd asked her something, Sayu explained, "He came to visit me…a while ago now. He told me all about the death note and how Ryuuk wrote Light's name down after he was apprehended, and how the four of you decided to lie about it, how you, for whatever reason, thought it would be better to say that you killed Kira if anyone really pushed it."

I felt dizzy.

"Why would he do that?"

She shrugged and wiped her eyes. "At first, I didn't want to listen, and I didn't believe him. For days, it's all I could think about. I thought, maybe, he was just… I don't know. I don't know why anyone would make up something _so_ ridiculous. And he was so detailed and insistent." A regretful laugh escaped her pretty lips. "He wasn't very nice about it, you know. The last thing he said before he left was, there, now you don't have any reason to hate Matsuda."

 _Nosey bastard._

"I still shot him," I said at last. "And I still lied about it. Even if you hated me for those things, I'd understand."

Sayu sort of glared, like she didn't need me to remind her of any of that. "Aizawa-san said you shot him because he was about to kill all of you. And like I said, I've thought about it for days. If that's really true…he's right. I don't have any excuse not to forgive you."

"I'm not sure…" I murmured, gazing at Light's apartment again. "I'm not sure even _I_ can forgive myself for what I did."

"Yeah. Aizawa-san said that too." She snorted. "Matsuda's being hard enough on himself without you punishing him for it."

I couldn't help laughing, even though it didn't feel right. "What the hell, Aizawa…"

"The point is," she said, firmer, "I don't want to hold a grudge against you forever. I don't want to go to sleep every night cursing your name."

I studied her. It should have made me happier even than finding out I was about to be an undercover agent, but I didn't trust it.

Seeing the doubt in my eyes, Sayu sighed and lowered her own gaze. "I loved my brother, Matsuda. Some of my earliest memories are of him—playing with me in my crib, helping me with my homework, playing with me at the precinct. I-I…" Another tear sped down her face and dripped from her chin, and her voice wavered. "Miss him. Every day."

I closed my eyes, trying to shut out the gunshots in my head.

"I believe he was Kira, though," she went on, stronger. "And I believe you were doing your duty. I know you. I know that what you did couldn't have been easy."

"No," I agreed, forcing back the cold moments I'd experienced after I'd woken from my rage and seen his bleeding corpse. "It wasn't."

Earnestly, Sayu searched my eyes, the same way Aizawa and Ide had been lately, looking for a different form of Matsuda I'd never even known existed before Kira appeared. "I can't stop thinking about you. I know that's stupid. Crazy, maybe. It hurts, knowing what you did, but I think it hurts worse not having you in my life."

"That is crazy," I agreed, dully.

Sayu paused and gave me an incredulous look, like she didn't expect that, and then, suddenly, she smiled and even gave a gentle laugh. "Oh, Touta." Shaking her head and wiping her eyes, she whispered. "I love you."

Floored, I stumbled back, stuttering as I tried to get my mind around the words. "You…love me?"

"It's kind of funny," she told me, in a decidedly grave tone. "I think I started to love you a while ago. When I found out you shot Light, it made me sick trying to sort out how it could even be possible…to love and hate someone so, so much at the same time."

Again, I saw it in my mind, the way she'd run away, the sound of her voice screaming about how she hated me. "I'm sure."

Sayu shrugged. "I had to decide what I wanted, though. I found out that, even if you had killed him, it wouldn't have changed the way I felt about you. Maybe, it would have been impossible to be with you, but I know I still would have loved you. That's probably why Aizawa-san took the risk of telling me about the death note. I guess he noticed…we made each other happy."

God, she had made me so, so happy. Even in the middle of hell, being with her had made me feel so much stronger and full of hope.

"Kira was evil. Just because he was my brother doesn't change that. I think Light must have been gone a long time before Kira died." She sobbed suddenly. It took her a moment to go on.

I fought the urge to reach out and touch her.

"I'll always love him, because he was my brother. And it wouldn't be fair if I stopped loving _you_. So…even if you _had_ killed him…I'd have to forgive you, the way I have to forgive him."

I had to pause also, warring with all the hurt inside me. "Sayu… Light wasn't evil," I told her. "He wanted something good…he just tried to do it the wrong way."

Sniffling, she met my gaze again and asked, "Do you think I'm stupid?"

"No. No… Sayu… I love you too." I lingered there, because the words honestly terrified me. If she wanted, she could use them to destroy me, and I wanted to trust her. "I don't know when it even started, or how, but I do, and I hate that I hurt you. I hate that _Light_ hurt you."

"I hate that he hurt you, too." Her hand caressed my cheek, tenderly, almost reverently. "Even if it made more sense, I can't imagine going on like this, hating you, never seeing you."

Closing my eyes, I exhaled slowly, obsessed with the feeling of her cool fingers on my face, battling the urge to sweep her up and crush her against me.

Out of the darkness, I felt her arms wind around my neck, and she leaned up suddenly to kiss my lips.

Automatically, I pulled her closer, pressing my mouth to hers.

Some day, it might not matter what Aizawa told her; she might wake up and realize she'd been wrong, she might not be able to help how she resented me, and some day, I might lose her. In that moment, though, wrapped in her love, it didn't matter so much; I'd do anything to make the feeling of having her last.

And even if this moment eventually became nothing but a memory too, I knew it would always be a bright flash in a blur of darkness, something to look back and smile on.

If nothing else, it signified something sweeter than victory—real friends who cared about me, who I'd fought my hardest for, who hadn't left my side even in my blackest moments, and that made me feel extremely lucky.

There, under the stars, with Sayu warm in my arms, all the danger behind, and nothing but hope ahead, it felt like I was finally starting over.

 **Death Note: AfterShock**

 **Preview**

 **Matsuda**

Pale light stung my eyes, and I shifted gradually on the cold ground, feeling sharp pain blast up my spine, tearing a wince out of me, so I had to lie still a while, trying to make sense of where I was and identify the aching in my body.

Above me, it looked like total darkness, but once I'd been staring through it a while, I noticed the dimly glinting shapes of steel beams and rafters, and then I heard dripping water nearby. My own breath fogged, and I slowly realized I was freezing, my feet felt numb, and every part of me burned.

With another wince, I forced myself to sit up, but it felt like my organs were about to rupture. Panting, I paused to slowly lift my shirt and stare down at the black patterns of bruises mottling my stomach and sides.

"Where am I?"

Ahead of me, a corridor stretched on and on, like a yawning mouth, and I heard the wind moan from that direction, bringing another gust of cold with it. Even to look at it made me shudder hard with fear, but when I glanced back over my shoulder, it was just as bad, the only difference being a pinpoint of bluish light in the distance.

"Hello?" I called, and my voice bounced off the walls around me.

As I stared into the light, something came back to me, a horrifying feeling of being tied down, rough hands gripping me and hitting me, harsh voices grating in my face, spitting on me, sharp knives jabbing my flesh, and my own voice screaming.

Those memories felt similar to a bad dream, though, unclear, difficult to get a grasp on; all I knew was I didn't want to walk back toward the light.

My mouth hurt. Exploring with my tongue, I discovered a gaping hole in the upper left side where a molar should be, and the horrifying feeling of stiff sutures.

Beginning to panic, I stared ahead into the darkness again. I didn't want to go _that_ way either.

 _I can't just sit here. No one knows where I am._

Out of reaction, I checked my pockets for my phone, and then looked for my gun, but I didn't even have my wallet.

 _All of that…is still at Sayu's…_

No calling for help. My only choice was to stand up, pick a direction, and try to make it somewhere safe.

Gasping through the pain, I climbed to my feet. My shoes and socks were missing. My head swam and throbbed, my legs quivered violently, and my stomach begged for food.

 _How long has it been?_

No telling. The fragmented nightmare seemed both short and endless, just a terrifying expanse of pain and hopelessness.

"Let's go, Touta," I told myself. "Nobody's coming to save you."


End file.
